The Expense of Spirit
by MadameAngel
Summary: "The expense of spirit in a waste of shame is lust in action" - Shakespeare, sonnet 129.  Rated M for language and sex.  Kirk/Spock - obviously. And, I've been told, lots of angst.
1. Prologue

**THE EXPENSE OF SPIRIT**

**Prologue**

* * *

Spock stood silently, trying to watch without being seen.

A blur of red and gold.

There was a sound like screaming, and the ground exploded. Spock threw himself to the earth as Captain Kirk and the security team raced by, the air overhead whizzing with fireballs. From his vantage point on the ground, Spock could see fifty Sirians ranged along the top of the nearest mountain, poised behind tank-sized, rudimentary firearms, raining fire down upon the intruders.

This mission _should_ have been a peaceful one.

A probe from Sirius III had been discovered in Federation Space nearly six months ago. The Federation could have made First Contact within three months, after studying from afar the life-forms of Sirius III, but President Kring had wanted to save the job for James T. Kirk. The _Enterprise_ had been lurking in orbit around Sirius III for the last week and a half while Kirk and Spock negotiated with the Sirians. At first, the centaur-like creatures seemed in favor of joining the Federation. It was only when they realized that they would have to abide by certain rules that they had turned against the idea. Kirk and Spock had redoubled their efforts, knowing that the Klingons or Romulans were sure to swoop in if the Federation failed. Unfortunately, once the Sirians had got wind that there were other governments, fonder of violence and force, they abandoned the Federation completely.

Spock kneeled up cautiously, his eyes trained on Kirk and the security team. A fireball screamed overhead. Kirk ducked and two of his guards caught the blast. They were hurled away from the group, their flesh burning as they fell. Only four were left now to guard the Captain as he sprinted towards the waiting shuttlecraft.

Spock stood up and slowly approached the two dying crewmen. He knelt near the first, laying his long fingers against the less-damaged side of the Human's face. He initiated a quiet mind-meld, sending thoughts of peace to aid the man in his passing. He did the same to the other, then took both of their phasers and tucked them into his belt along with his own. Then he headed after the Captain.

As Kirk neared the shuttle's hiding place, the Sirians began to abandon their firearms and converge upon the Humans. They fired flaming arrows into the group. Kirk dodged aside, his hands over his head. Three of the arrows struck security officers, igniting their uniforms in the oxygen-rich air. The officers dropped to the ground in an effort to put out the flames, but only succeeded in setting the long blue grass on fire as they rolled pointlessly back and forth. Spock ran faster.

The last surviving security officer hurtled himself onto the nearest Sirian, trying to drag it away from the Captain. Spock ran faster still, drawing a phaser from his belt. He fired it at the Sirian, just as the fiendish creature buried a long silver blade to the hilt in the Human's back.

A dry sob echoed out of Jim's throat as Spock reached him. He stumbled, and fell flat on his face in the grass. Spock stood over him and emptied his phaser into the swarm of approaching Sirians. _They will not take the Captain,_ he repeated to himself. _They will __**not**__ take the Captain!_ Stooping, he lifted Kirk to his feet.

"Call the ship," he said urgently into Kirk's ear, holding him up with one hand and firing another phaser with the other.

Kirk had lost his communicator some hours earlier, so he pulled Spock's off his belt and flipped it open.

"Kirk to _Enterprise_, we're being attacked, we don't have time to reach the shuttle. Beam us up _now_."

They stood there, arms around each other, trying to present as small a target as possible while still firing their phasers at the Sirians, waiting for what seemed like hours until the transporter beam placed them gently back aboard the _Enterprise_.

Kirk pitched forward, his body crumpling against Spock's, his stomach heaving with dry sobs. Spock tightened his arms around Jim in an attempt to keep the Human upright.

A distant memory crossed Spock's mind as they stood there: his mother, dead, and Jim's voice saying softly, "I'm sorry." Spock bent his head toward Jim's ear.

Jim tried to will his body to relax, but his muscles were tight and trembling with exhaustion and fear. Spock's breath was warm and comforting on his neck as the Vulcan whispered three words of comfort that he did not believe in.

"I am sorry."

* * *

**A/N: Well, there 'tis, the very beginning of my latest story. I hope you've liked it so far. I'm going to TRY to update regularly. I've got the whole thing planned out so it shouldn't be too hard, but college life can be a bitch sometimes. Loves and Spirk-flavored candies to you all!**


	2. Thus From My Lips By Thine

**THE EXPENSE OF SPIRIT**

**Chapter 1: Thus From My Lips By Thine My Sin Is Purged**

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After making First Contact with Sirius III, the _Enterprise _crew was supposed to go to New Vulcan and assist in the colonization there. Since Sirius III had turned out to be such a disaster, however, President Kring himself had sent a message to the _Enterprise_ as she was on her way back into Federation Space. McCoy and most of the junior officers would go to New Vulcan, but the main bridge crew would be granted a ten-day relaxation leave on Starbase 11.

They put into Starbase 11's space dock that very evening. McCoy and most of the crew immediately departed with the _Enterprise,_ bound for New Vulcan. Only Kirk, Spock, Uhura, Sulu, Chekov, Scotty, and (for some reason no one could figure out) Nurse Chapel remained behind. Kirk had a sneaking suspicion that McCoy had ordered her to stay behind to keep an eye on him.

The group headed down the sterile hallway in somber spirits. Kirk led the way, his slow, shuffling gait sending him bumping into the walls more than once. They al stopped somewhat awkwardly outside the first of the rooms they'd rented, which Scotty had decided would be his. The engineer paused, one hand on the door switch.

"What say we freshen up a bit, then meet in the bar for a pint? Or two?" he said in his thick Scottish brogue. After a few shifty glances at one another, everyone else nodded.

"I don't know about you, but I could certainly use a drink," Kirk said dryly.

As the rest shambled off to their respective rooms, Uhura turned to Spock, putting her hands on his shoulders. He did not shy away from the contact as he would have in the past. For more than a year now, Nyota and Spock had maintained their romantic relationship in addition to their duties aboard the _Enterprise_, and Spock had gradually become more relaxed about showing mild affection in public places.

"Are you going to come to the bar?" she asked. There was no persuasion in her voice. She had figured out many months ago that the types of persuasion that would work on a human, male or female, did not work on Spock. After a moment, he spoke.

"As you know, it is not my custom to indulge in such frivolous activities, but if you desire I will accompany you this evening." Spock's face betrayed no emotion, but a slight upward tilt in his voice told Nyota that he would, in fact, enjoy spending the evening with her. She smiled brilliantly.

"Thank you," she said, giving him a quick kiss on the cheek. "I'll meet you downstairs in an hour." She turned and headed for her room, fingering the control delicately before stepping inside. Spock watched her go before heading down the hall to the last vacant room.

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When Kirk arrived, the bar was relatively empty, but he didn't care. He could drink himself into oblivion just as well alone as he could with people around, maybe even better. At least Bones wasn't there. The medical officer was notorious for sticking hypos into Jim's neck before he could get satisfactorily wasted.

"What'll it be?" the bartender asked.

"Whatever's your strongest. And leave a bottle."

"You know we don't use bottles up here."

"Yeah, yeah," Kirk said, putting his ID/credit card on the counter. "Just keep a tab."

The bartender's eyebrows rose, but he didn't object. As long as he had paying customers, he wasn't about to complain. What was it to him if some idiot spent too much on alcohol to pay to fix his liver afterward? He shrugged and turned to his drink replicator. He filled a glass with Saurian brandy, added a shot of tequila, a shot of Romulan ale, and a little bit of berry flavoring. The result was a bubbly, deep purple drink guaranteed to knock out even the hardest of drinkers after a few glassfuls. He thunked the glass down in front of the sad-looking man at the bar.

"So whadaya call this?" he asked.

"Klingon Blood," said the bartender with a straight face.

"Wha-?" Kirk asked, looking up at him.

"You know, because Klingons have purple blood." The bartender tried to smile, but the blue-eyed glare gave him a bit of a chill and he hurried to address the crowd of people now coming through the door. "What can I get you all?" Everyone shrugged, but one Scottish voice piped up.

"One Scotch on the rocks with a shot of Jack on the side," it said. Then the speaker sat down next to Mr. Blue Eyes at the bar. "Hey, Jimbo, how goes it?"

Kirk didn't answer, but he raised his glass in Scotty's general direction. He downed it in one breath and slammed the glass back on the counter, motioning for another.

"Dinna beat yerself up, lad," Scotty said, patting Kirk's shoulder.

"You know he will, regardless of your efforts, Mr. Scott," said a honeyed voice from the doorway. Everyone turned, and even the bartender looked up.

Spock and Uhura were standing there, silhouetted against the brighter light in the corridor. Spock was wearing black pants and a dark grey sweater. Uhura was ravishing in a very pale grey dress that clung to her curves and swung attractively around her knees. Next to him, Kirk heard Scotty give a low whistle as the two approached the bar, their fingers entwined. Kirk couldn't help but be slightly surprised at this fact. Despite the fact that the two had been in a relationship for quite some time, he still couldn't wrap his head around the idea.

The next hour or so was a hazy blur. Kirk steadily drank his way through more Klingon Bloods than the bartender had ever seen any one drink, while those around him kept up a steady, light-hearted chatter. He listened vaguely, wondering how his crewmembers were able to bounce back so easily from such a tragedy. He had lost six crewmen in the space of about fifteen minutes! He played and replayed those last fatal moments in his mind, trying to find a way that he could have saved those innocent men and women who had given their lives for him.

"Jim," said a voice from down the bar. Kirk looked up blearily. Spock was watching him closely, his dark eyes narrowed in what could only be described as concern. He was standing behind Uhura, his hands resting lightly on her shoulders, but his stare was fixed unblinkingly on Kirk, a miniscule frown line barely visible between his upswept eyebrows.

"Yeah?" Kirk said, blinking hard to bring his eyes into focus.

"How many alcoholic beverages have you consumed?" Spock's low voice cut easily under the babble of the Humans around them.

"Uh… seven?" he said hoarsely. Spock raised an eyebrow. "Nine? Maybe eleven? I dunno, Spock, an' is none 'f your business."

"Eleven? Really?" the bartender piped up. "Last guy I had in only drank six!" Kirk just stared at him until he walked away again.

"I believe, Jim, that now would be the best time for you to retire for the night," Spock said quietly.

"Oh… you b-leeve, d'you?" Jim shot back, his words running together. Spock's eyebrows lowered a fraction of an inch. Jim muttered something unintelligible, slid off his stool, and headed for the door. Spock's eyes followed him all the way out the door and down the hall out of sight. Then he glanced back at the counter where Jim had left his ID/credit card. He walked over and picked it up, handing it to the bartender.

"Please charge Captain Kirk for his drinks so that I may return this to him." The bartender scanned the card and handed it back to Spock. The Vulcan nodded once and turned to Uhura. "If you do not mind, I will return this to Kirk and then retire for the night." Uhura smiled and waved him away.

Spock did not see anyone as he made his way back to the hallway with their rented rooms. He was walking much slower than usual, the pit of his stomach aching with a primal nervousness that he refused to acknowledge. When he arrived, he buzzed himself into Jim's room, expecting to find the Human passed out on the bed. Instead he found Jim sitting in a chair in the middle of the room, staring at the ceiling.

"Hey, Spock," he said as Spock walked in.

"Jim," Spock said softly, "you left your card on the bar."

"Thang-you," Jim mumbled. Spock crossed the room and set Jim's card down on the chest of drawers against the opposite wall, then turned to go.

"Wait." Jim's voice rang out, surprisingly clear, across the room. The pain in his voice made Spock ache, and he paused, just out of reach of the door switch. "Stay. Please." Spock crossed the room again in one swift move and sat down gracefully in the vacant chair next to Jim. An idea came to him as he did so, a half-hidden memory of himself and Uhura in the turbolift, and the words spoken in his time of deepest sorrow.

"What do you need, Jim?" he asked, his voice just above a whisper. "What can I do to help you?"

Jim didn't reply for several moments. The only sounds in the room were his and Spock's breathing, punctuated by the ticking of the antique analog clock above the holo-screen on the wall.

"Did we do the right thing, Spock?" he asked finally. "Should we have gone to Sirius and lost so many crewmen? And we risked losing so many more. So many… So important…" Jim flopped forward, his spine curving gently, resting his elbows on his knees.

"Yes, Jim. We did the right thing." Spock tried to make his voice as reassuring as possible. "Starfleet sent us because we had the best chance. No one else had half the chance for success that we had, with you. You are the best Captain in the fleet, Jim. Do not forget that."

Jim's body shuddered, and Spock realized that the Human was crying.

"Not them, Spock," he whispered hoarsely. "I knew we would lose them. But _you_. You weren't supposed to be there. You were supposed to beam back up to the ship. Why didn't you beam up?" He was talking very fast now, his sentences broken and punctured. He looked up at Spock, his blue eyes shining with unshed tears.

Spock held his breath. His mind felt like it was working at impossible speeds to answer Jim's question. He must be truthful. Yet how could he be so without revealing the deepest part of himself? He wrestled with finding the right words, knowing that this was too _soon_, he had not yet even come to terms with it himself. Jim must not know. Not yet.

"It did not…make sense to leave you," he said slowly. Yes, that was the truth. He only hoped that Jim would not question it. But Jim was silent for a long time.

"What?" he said eventually, sounding tired.

"If I was not there on Sirius III, you would have died." Spock's voice was low and bordering on dangerous. He could feel something in the back of his throat, curling along his spine, yearning to escape. He held very still.

"Yeah, but because you were there, _you_ could have died," Jim said fiercely, scooting forward in his chair. Their knees were almost touching. "And if you _had_ died, I—" He broke off, staring sullenly at the floor. His next words were so low that even Spock had to lean forward to hear them. "I can't lose you. Dammit, Spock, you're my closest friend. I know we got off to a bit of a rough…start, but I love you, man." He looked up, straight into Spock's eyes. "I mean that."

Spock didn't move. He didn't breathe. He didn't react at all beyond blinking a few times. How could Jim possibly know, possibly even suspect? He had been so careful, so sure that no one would ever find out – but perhaps he had underestimated Jim Kirk. It wouldn't be the first time.

Jim leaned closer, one of his knees sliding in between Spock's. Spock could smell the alcohol on his breath, mixed with the scent of his skin, as he whispered, "Spock, you have to promise me that you will _never_ risk yourself for my sake."

"I will not make a promise that I cannot keep," Spock said quietly, moving his lips as little as possible.

Quite suddenly, Jim grabbed the sides of Spock's face tightly in both hands, and stared deep into the Vulcan's black eyes. Spock couldn't help but notice the coolness of the Human's skin against his own, how Jim's fingertips were grazing the outer curve of his ear and sending flash burns along his skin, despite everything he did to prevent them.

"No, Spock, you can't—"

"I can, and I _will_, as long as I deem it is necessary. I—_we_ cannot afford to lose you, Jim. You must understand how valuable you are."

Jim was crying again, fat tears rolling down the sides of his face. Spock gently took hold of his wrists, laying each finger carefully so as not to touch any of the Human's skin.

"You need not worry about me, Jim," he said quietly.

"But I do worry. You know I do."

Spock knew what was about to happen the instant before it did. Jim's body surged forward, and Spock tightened his grip on his wrists, to no avail. Their lips met, and Spock could taste the salt from Jim's tears on his skin. The struggled for a moment, Jim pulling, Spock pushing, but rising up with his body even as he tried to create distance between their two bodies. Jim's body and mouth were relentless against Spock's, and he was worming his way onto Spock's chair.

When Spock still remained relatively unresponsive, Jim took his hands, sliding their fingers together. And the feeling that curled along Spock's spine reared to life. A haggard moan ripped from his throat. Jim brought his mouth to Spock's ear and hissed, "Spock. Please. Please just let me have this. I need—"

Spock silenced him with a kiss, standing up and pulling Jim along with him. A tiny voice in the back of his mind cried that this was not going to end well, but it gradually fell silent under the onslaught of adrenaline coursing through his bloodstream. They made their way over to the bed, a slow and clumsy process. Jim's kisses were wet, hungry, and eager, and Spock allowed himself to be swept up in the tide of the Human's overflowing emotions. They fell on the bed in a tangled heap of arms and legs, their shaking fingers fumbling along the hems of one another's shirts.

Once the shirts were out of the way, Jim sat up and pushed Spock down on the bed before him, running his hands and lips over the Vulcan's naked torso. Spock's back arched up off of the bed, his mouth open in a silent moan. Jim slowly eased Spock's pants down over his thin hips, grazing his hands up along his legs as he pressed himself down into Spock's body.

"Spock, can I? I just…need," he whispered, unable to form a complete sentence.

"I understand," Spock said quietly, though it burned his tongue to say it. He closed his eyes as Jim kissed him again, sliding his tongue along the seam of Spock's lips. With a half-insane gasp, Spock's mouth opened, allowing Jim to taste him, running his tongue over the points of Spock's teeth.

Gently, oh so gently, Jim eased his fingers under the elastic waistband of Spock's thin cotton briefs and pulled them down to his ankles. Time seemed to slow as Jim took Spock's hips in his hands, rotating them and turning Spock over onto his stomach. The feel of Jim's cool fingers against his skin made Spock groan through clenched teeth. He squeezed his eyes shut and curled his hands into fists on the bedsheet, trying to block the pain, pain that danced so teasingly along the line of pleasure that he couldn't tell which was which.

He knew, somewhere deep in the recesses of his mind, that he should not be enjoying this. But his instinct overrode his self-control and he arched back into Jim's thrusting hips, biting his lip against the moan building at the back of his throat. His senses seemed to be heightened. The soft fabric of the bedsheet felt rough against his skin, and the feel of Jim's body entwined with his own was strong, nearly overpowering. He could hear Jim's breath accelerate, his own rising in pace to match it, making him lightheaded with the lack of oxygen his brain was receiving.

The slick sounds of flesh moving against flesh reached a crescendo in his ears and, moments later, too soon, Spock felt Jim collapse on top of him, spent, his weight pressing Spock's feverish body into the mattress. He listened to Jim's heartbeat slow down as his body adjusted to the feeling of being just one person again. Eventually, Jim rolled off of him and curled up on his side, fast asleep. Spock got awkwardly to his feet and pulled his pants back on. Ignoring the burning ache in his own body, he pulled the blanket up over Jim's shoulders, making sure that he would be warm in the night. He resisted the urge to give the Human one last kiss, knowing that it wouldn't help matters at all.

Spock picked up his sweater off the floor and pulled it on as he crossed to the door. He dimmed the lights to 5% before leaving the room and locking the door behind him.

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**There you go, my lovelies! I'm awful sorry it took me ages and ages to get this chapter done, but I was severely inspiration-lacking until I saw Zachary Quinto's film at the Sundance Festival. I hope you loved this chapter, and please don't hate me if it's a long time until I update again! But I really will try to be better, I promise.**


	3. There Is No Remedy

**THE EXPENSE OF SPIRIT**

**Chapter 2: For This Sin There Is No Remedy**

* * *

Spock heard Jim's bedroom door close behind him and stopped just outside. He could hear the Human's deep, relaxed breathing and wished that he could relax as easily. He knew that the Human remedy for such a situation was a cold shower, but he also knew that merely standing under a stream of frigid water would not be enough to calm him. He needed something to _do_ with this energy. He turned sharply and headed down the hall to the turbolift.

Thankfully, the lift was empty. The last thing Spock wanted right now was to run into one of the crew. He did not like to lie, but he knew that it would be extremely unwise to reveal what had happened between him and the Captain, especially since he himself did not even know.

The turbolift deposited him on the recreation deck. Spock walked past the game room and gymnasium, heading for the swimming pool. He paused in the locker room to replicate some short swim pants and store his outfit in a locker. He pulled the shorts up his legs and settled them on his hips. He was intensely relieved that no one was around to see him, as the tight black material was very unforgiving to his present state. He made his way out to the swimming pool, his bare feet making no sound on the cold tile floor.

The Starbase swimming pool was one hundred feet long by seventy-five feet wide, and varied in depth from five to fifteen feet. Spock walked down to the deepest end and stood at the very edge of the water. He bent his knees and swiped one foot through the surface. The water was cooler than he expected, and goose bumps sprang up along legs. Yes, this would do nicely. He took a deep breath and stepped over the edge.

The cold water engulfed him with one loud _woosh_, then all was silent. Spock's feet found the smooth bottom of the pool and he stood there, eyes open, listening to the blood rushing in his ears. The pool water didn't burn his eyes. The chemicals were simple, pure solutions used to keep the water clean, and any Human would need eye goggles, but Spock's third eyelid, although rarely used, slid smoothly into place to protect his eyes.

When he felt his body start to run out of oxygen, he pushed off gently, floating upward until his head broke the surface. He shook his head to get the water out of his ears. He treaded water for a few minutes, feeling the coolness seep into his body, bringing down his temperature and soothing his arousal. Then he took a deep breath and pushed off from the side of the pool, pulling with his arms and kicking with his legs. He swam one length, then another, then a third, before coming up for air. He repeated the process again, and again, and again.

* * *

Jim opened his eyes blearily. His head was pounding and his mouth felt like he had been sleeping with an old sock stuck in it.

"C'mputer," he mumbled, "Wha' time's it?"

"Five-oh-three in the morning," said his computer in a cool female voice.

"Blah," Jim said, rolling over and staring at the ceiling. What had happened last night? He remembered going to the bar, and he vaguely remembered leaving it, but everything else was a blur. He didn't _think_ he'd slept with anyone, but he was feeling extremely relaxed and he'd had enough sex to recognize how his body felt the morning after. He furrowed his brow, straining to remember.

Heat. Lean, corded muscles. Narrow hips held firm in his hands. A name rose to his lips.

"Spock…"

_Spock_? There was no way in _hell_ that he had had sex with Spock last night. First of all, Spock was dating Uhura; second, Spock was Vulcan – well, half; third, no. Just no. It must have been a dream, then. It wouldn't have been the first time… His head gave a nasty throb, and he groaned.

He rolled off his bed and fell to the floor with a thump. Then he sat up and looked around. His shirt was on the floor next to his bed. Well, that made sense, he probably dropped it there before he fell asleep. He stood up and wandered over to replicate a cup of coffee, then walked to the dresser to find some clean clothes. His credit card was sitting on top of the dresser, and he now remembered Spock bringing it by last night. But then what had happened? He had no idea, but he still didn't believe that anything had happened between him and Spock last night. It was _Spock_ after all.

* * *

Spock was floating on his back in the middle of the pool, moving his arms slightly to help stay afloat. He had been swimming for hours, forcing his body to become calm. Now he felt almost tired, but he was not yet ready to leave the solitude of the pool.

What was he to do?

Unless he was very much mistaken, Jim had been responding to the trauma with a very typical Human coping mechanism: seeking comfort through physical contact with another person. And Jim had taken advantage of Spock's willingness and desire to liberate Jim from his pain by providing the very comfort the Human so desperately craved.

He had already stopped believing that this plan would not backfire.

Over the last few hours, Spock had been working his body so hard that his mind had been unable to pull apart the incident and pick it clean. He did so now, hoping that the pool would remain empty until he had reached some semblance of a conclusion.

He knew that Jim had been promiscuous in his Academy days, but since becoming Captain of the _Enterprise_, he had managed to reign in his hormones. However, Spock also knew that Human males were not wont to go long periods of time without sexual gratification. If he used just this evidence, it seemed that Jim had only used Spock's body as a means to achieve release.

This hypothesis, however, was riddled with holes.

First of all, Spock was fully aware of the fact that, if a Human male was desperate enough for sexual stimulation, he need not look any further than his own right hand. Second of all, there was more than simple sexual desire in Jim's touch last night. He was devastated by the deaths on Sirius III and had been seeking mental comfort, as well as physical, in Spock's arms.

Spock would be content with this answer, and wanted very much to be so, but for one glaring fact that he had refused to acknowledge.

Jim had been drunk. _Extremely_ drunk. And, in the six years that Spock had spent at the Academy, one fact about Humans had stuck in his mind and put a sour taste on the back of his tongue: Humans, when intoxicated, were entirely different creatures. Though always irrational, drunkenness made them louder, brasher, more unthinking. Drunk Humans were nearly Klingon in their brutish, animalistic behavior, and nothing about them was to be trusted; not their footing, not their stomach, not their words, not their actions.

And therein lay the true tragedy that had only _begun_ on Sirius III. Jim would probably not remember his night with the Vulcan, and Spock had already made up his mind not to mention the incident unless the Human brought it up first. At the back of his mind, it waited, cold and hard and heavy. _Would_ Jim remember? Did the encounter even mean _anything _to him? Spock highly doubted this, as he had seen many Humans, who had been much less drunk than Jim, trying to copulate with various inanimate objects, not the least of which had been the lamppost on a darkened street corner. No, Jim would not remember, and even if he did, his drunken coupling with Spock would mean next to nothing to him. Such was the case with drunken Humans, and Spock had seen enough of _them_ to knew with certainty that they could not be trusted.

Spock took a deep breath and turned over, jackknifing and propelling himself towards the bottom of the pool. He skimmed along the floor, pulling himself forward with splayed hands. In the silence underwater, Spock could hear someone approaching the pool. The footsteps stopped and, not a second later, someone else entered the pool with an ear-breaking splash. Spock twisted around, staring through the mess of bubbles to see who it was. As the bubbles cleared, he became suddenly very aware of two blue eyes staring back at him.

_Jim_.

Spock gasped sharply, inhaling a mouthful of water before he could stop himself. He pushed off from the floor, exploding through the surface of the pool in a fit of coughing and sneezing. Jim surface and shook his head, sending tiny droplets into the water with noises that echoed in Spock's ears like bullets.

Jim paddled over to Spock and thumped him on the back. Spock decided to ignore the fact that Jim was touching his skin, but his body had other plans.

"You okay, Spock?" Jim asked.

"Yes, Jim, thank you," Spock replied, swimming backwards to put some distance between them. He realized he had been holding still for too long when he started shivering. Unfortunately, Jim noticed.

"You're shivering," he said blankly.

"Yes," Spock said.

"How long have you been in here?"

Spock paused before answering. "All night," he said after a minute.

"You came straight here after dropping off my card?"

"…Yes." Spock waited.

"Thanks for bringing that by, by the way."

"Of course," Spock replied. "Your identification would be an unfortunate thing to lose."

They treaded water for a while in silence.

"Spock, you're still shivering," Jim pointed out.

"Yes. I believe most of my body temperature is being utilized to keep my urine warm. I must excuse myself to use the bathroom." Spock didn't wait for a reply, but promptly submerged, swam to the far end of the pool, and climbed out. Jim watched him go.

Spock walked to the last shower in a row of five functioning water showers. The rest had been replaced with more efficient sonic showers, but thankfully, Starfleet had managed to remember that some humanoids had hearing too sensitive to withstand the sound of a sonic shower. Spock peeled off the wet swim shorts and poked them down a recycling chute. The water was wonderfully warm as it ran in rivulets down over his skin. He pushed one of three buttons on the wall and shampoo squirted out of a tiny pipe into the palm of his hand. He washed the pool water from his hair, then used more soap to wash the smell of it from his skin.

He toweled off and slipped back into his pants and sweater from the night before. Jim's scent still clung to the thick, knitted fibers of the sweater, and Spock made a point of shoving it deep into the laundry chute that led to the maintenance deck once he returned to his room.

He pawed angrily through the small assortment of clothes he'd brought with him, then flung his bag across the room. It hit the wall and fell to the floor with a flump, the clothes spilling out. Spock looked at it for a minute, internally berating himself for acting out so violently. Still, he reasoned, at least there was no one around to see it. He crossed the room in three strides and picked it up, folding the clothes neatly and tucking them back in the bag, all except his meditation robe. He slipped into this gratefully, savoring the feel of the rich fabrics against his skin. The robe had been a gift from his parents when he had completed his under-level schooling on Vulcan. The matriculation was a coming-of-age event for young Vulcanians, much like graduating from high school on Earth.

He locked the door and set the lights in his room to fifty percent. Then he folded himself into a kneeling position on the floor in the open space between the kitchenette and bathroom and closed his eyes.

* * *

Jim had spent a long morning in the swimming pool, and while that was doubtless invigorating, he was getting bored and hungry. He paged Scotty on his communicator.

"Hey, Scotty, where is everybody?"

"We're at lunch. Mess hall seven."

"Great, save me a seat," Kirk said, flipping the communicator closed.

His hair was still damp when he entered the mess hall. He replicated a turkey sub sandwich and a glass of juice, and sat down next to Sulu.

"How are you feeling, Captain?" Christine Chapel said, leaning across the table and putting a hand on Jim's arm.

"We're on leave, Christine, you can call me Kirk, or even Jim if you like." He grinned. "And I'm fine," he added. "Just took a swim in the pool."

"Zat reminds me," Chekov piped up, "Hikaru, do you vant to come vith me and check out ze games on ze recreation deck?" Kirk watched him closely. Chekov wasn't looking at Sulu, but at the tabletop, two faint pink spots high on his cheeks. Damn, the kid was adorable. Kirk looked over at Sulu. Sulu was staring at the table too, obviously struggling to answer.

"Why don't we all go?" Kirk suggested loudly, before the silence got too awkward. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Chekov glance at him gratefully, and he gave a small smile in return. "Let me just finish my sandwich and we'll head down. Sound good?" Everyone muttered their assent.

An hour or so later, they were ranged around on of the game consoles in the massive recreation gaming room. Sulu and Chekov were playing some sort of fighting game, their on-screen avatars mimicking their every move. Nyota and Christine sat on a couch nearby, whispering and giggling about something. Every few minutes, one of them would laugh quite loudly, only to be immediately shushed by the other.

"Christine, you have to swear you won't tell anyone," Nyota was saying.

"Oh, of course! Now, give me the dirty details."

"Well, as lame as this sounds, I've never slept with Spock."

"Right," Christine said.

"It's true! I mean, I've slept with people, _obviously_, but not him. He wasn't cool with it aboard the _Enterprise_ because there was work to be done and stuff."

"That does sound like him," Christine said, a hint of wistfulness in her voice.

"_But_, we're on shore leave. And check out my dress." Nyota turned around and pulled her hair over her shoulder. Her dress, as it turned out, was cut low in the back, exposing her chocolate-colored skin, but she'd left her hair down to cover it up.

"Wow," Christine said enviously.

"I know, right!" Nyota was positively glowing. "I've arranged for a dinner to be sent to my room so we don't have to bother with going to the mess with everyone else."

"You go, girl," Christine said sincerely. "Good luck."

Jim was standing off to one side, watching the game and shifting slightly from side to side. Shore leave was nice and relaxing, but it was always too long and he was getting restless already.

It was mid afternoon by the time the crew got bored of their virtual games and decided to do something else. They were on their way to the holo-theater when they rounded a corner and saw Spock walking in their direction.

The Vulcan paused when he saw them, almost as though he was considering turning around and walking back the other way. But he approached them anyway, not looking at anyone for longer than half a second. Christine nudged Uhura in the side and smirked, and Nyota grinned conspiratorially at her before looking back at Spock. He was wearing a pitch-black shirt and his usual black pants. His eyes stood out huge and dark beneath his upswept eyebrows.

"Hey, Spock," Kirk said. Spock nodded silently at him. "We're on our way to watch a holo about…something. Wanna come?"

Spock looked away as he considered this, knowing he would be unable to think rationally while staring into Kirk's wide blue eyes. Holo-films, unless they were educational or informative in some way, held no interest for him; but Nyota was going, and since he was her so-called "boyfriend," he should probably spend some time in her company. Also, if they were in a darkened theater, he wouldn't need to interact with, or even look at, Jim at all, and this could only be helpful.

"Earth to Spock," Jim said after a moment.

"My apologies," he said. "Yes, I will join you for the film. Thank you for inviting me."

"You're always invited, Spock," Jim said softly. Spock pretended not to hear him.

Spock sat next to Uhura at the end of a row of seats. Jim was at the other end, sitting next to Scotty. He was munching on popcorn, his eyes fixed on the screen. Spock couldn't help watching the play of light on Jim's face, and the way it intensified his features. He could hear the sounds and see the colors of the holo film, but none of what was happening on screen made any impression on him. When Jim licked his lips clean of popcorn salt, Spock's hand clenched fiercely around the armrest of his chair.

"Are you okay?" Nyota whispered. Spock nodded once, not trusting himself to speak. He would have to meditate again tonight— Nyota's fingers curled around his hand on the armrest, snapping him out of his thoughts. He looked at her out of the corner of his eye. She was staring straight ahead, not looking at him, but a small smile was playing around her mouth. Spock spent the next hour or so forcing himself to concentrate on the feeling of her hand in his and not look at Jim again.

When the film was over, Spock let himself be led away by Nyota, who took them up to her room. The rest of the crew headed back to the mess hall for dinner, but Nyota assured Spock that she had something prepared for them in her room.

When they arrived, Spock found that Nyota had had a meal sent up. Three candles were lit on the bar, surrounded by crystal bowls of vegetable and fruit salads. Nyota moved closer to the table, beckoning for Spock to join her. The candlelight reflected off her body, and Spock realized for the first time that Nyota was wearing a black dress that clung to her body and cut off in the middle of her thighs. As Spock approached her, she turned back to the food, pulling her hair over her shoulder and exposing the skin of her back, outlined by the deep cut of the dress. Her skin was amber in the candlelight. Spock knew he should be appreciating the sight, the way she was blatantly offering herself to him, but he could not.

"Come. Eat," Nyota said quietly, her voice low.

Spock helped her onto a bar stool, not failing to notice that her posture shortened the length of her skirt by three inches. He sank onto the stool next to her, silently accepting the plant of food she passed to him. They ate slowly, and the food tasted like sawdust in Spock's mouth.

The candles had burned halfway down when Nyota set down her fork and slid off her stool. Spock looked up from his plate as she stepped closer to him. When their eyes met, she smiled.

"Hey."

"Hello," Spock said. He tried to maneuver his expression into something other than the blank mask he knew it must be, but his facial muscles refused to cooperate. Nyota's smile softened.

"What's wrong, Spock?" she asked. Spock looked away. She picked up both of his hands. "What do you need? Let me help you." She pressed her lips to his hands, kissing them softly. Spock stood up, and he could feel his expression shifting into one of sadness. It felt extremely obvious to him, but Nyota did not respond, so it must not have been very apparent. She wrapped her arms around his neck and rested her head on his shoulder. He put his arms obediently around her waist, willing himself to love her, or at least to remember how it was to love her in the beginning.

But the memories did not come. All that Spock could think of was his father's voice. _"Marrying your mother was…logical."_ Spock had since learned that Sarek had actually loved Amanda, but by then it was too late, and Spock was already in a "logical" relationship with one of his students – a relationship that was just on the verge of being inappropriate, just enough so that no one would question him: Nyota had liked him, and if a Vulcan professor was in a relationship with a Human student, there "must" be a good reason for it. Why else would it happen?

Nyota pulled back and looked into Spock's face.

"Are you okay?" she whispered.

"I will be," Spock said honestly.

"I'll make sure of it." She leaned in, pressing her lips to his.

Spock allowed himself to be steered over to the bed, the only place in the room where two people could sit comfortably side-by-side. He let Nyota kiss him, and was vaguely aware of her hands sliding down his arms, but all he could think of was that it had not even been twenty-four hours since he was in this exact position with another, very different Human, and how _boring_ Nyota seemed in comparison.

It wasn't until Nyota took one of Spock's hands and placed it gently on her breast that he was even aware what was happening. He pulled sharply away.

"What's wrong?" she asked.

A lie sprang, fully prepared, to Spock's lips, and he spoke it without a second thought. "Nyota," he began slowly, "I cannot…do this." Her face fell, and she scooted a few inches away. "Let me explain. For most of my life, I was completely unaware that love existed in any real sense. On Vulcan, we are taught that any emotion is harmful. It was not until my mother died that I learned that my father loved her at all, and only then did it occur to me that they had most likely had intercourse more times than on the occasion I was conceived."

Nyota was silent.

"Do you understand why I cannot be with you in this way? It is not that I do not care for you, but I am still not…comfortable with physical affection of this kind, especially outside of a marriage bond. Please know that I do not intent to hurt you."

Nyota looked up at him, her eyes sparkling with tears. "I understand. Thank you for telling me."

Spock kissed her lightly on the forehead, stood up, and left the room.

Once alone in the safety of his own room, Spock knelt down, not bothering to put on his robe. At the end of an hour, only one thought remained in his mind: Nyota Uhura must never discover the depth of his deception.

* * *

**I am officially the **_**worst**_** author ever. :( I am soooo sorry that it took me OVER A MONTH to get this updated. I've just been so busy with school and study abroad and work and boyfriend drama (grateful for the angst inspiration though) that I haven't had time to think about slashiness. As always, I'll try to be better with chapter 3, but we'll see. *sigh* I'm sorry, my loves. Please to review!**


	4. Mine Eye and Heart

**A/N: I went all summer without updating a single chapter… *hides* But I have a very strict writing schedule now, and I think things will be going…a bit…smoother…from now on. I hope. *scared face***

* * *

**THE EXPENSE OF SPIRIT**

**Chapter 3: Mine Eye and Heart Are at a Mortal War**

* * *

Spock had believed that after apologizing and explaining so profusely to Nyota the night before, she would accept his reasons and let him be. She would have done so, had she not been so very Human, or so very female. Females of nearly ever species were this way, Spock knew, but Human females were notorious for ruminating on their problems far longer than was necessary, even when said problems had already been resolved. All of this passed through Spock's mind in the three-point-four-two seconds it took for Nyota to sit down next to him at breakfast.

"Good morning, Spock," she said, and he could hear a trace of nervousness in her voice. He didn't reply, but waited for her to continue. "I am so sorry about last night. Please believe me when I say I never would have tried anything if I'd know how you really felt about all this."

Spock felt someone watching him. He looked up from his teacup and straight across the room into Jim's eyes.

_She must never know_.

Nyota had stopped speaking and was evidently waiting for him to reply. He steeled himself, locking his muscles and freezing his expression. Although the teachings of Surak looked down upon bearing falsehoods, Spock had always been interested in the fact that those same teachings gave Vulcans the very tools they would need to become expert liars.

"I know you are sorry," Spock said. "I apologize as well, for any pain I may have caused you. Please know that was not my intention."

"I understand. We won't do anything of the sort until you're comfortable with it." She kissed him on the cheek and stood up to get some food. Spock watched her idly and then looked back to where Jim was sitting. The Human was still looking at him. A brief memory of their night together flashed across Spock's mind and, for less than half a second, he could feel the echoes of Jim's touch against his skin. He looked quickly away from Jim's gaze, suddenly, irrationally worried that Jim could read the memory in his eyes.

After several minutes, the rest of the _Enterprise_ bridge crew had come down to breakfast. Jim was corralling them all around his table. Spock watched them closely. It could be that Jim just wanted their company. If that was the case, Spock would not inflict his presence upon them. His cool persona only mixed well with Human frivolity under the best of circumstances, and these were _not_ the best of circumstances.

Spock could feel something stirring in the back of his mind, a rolling boil of emotions just out of sight, half an instant from spilling over. He had been alternating between ignoring and trying to stifle these emotions for the last twenty-nine hours, and had no desire to spend any more time in Jim Kirk's presence than he could help. He knew he wouldn't be able to keep this up forever. Like the pressure building up inside the volcanic Mount Tar'Hana, Spock knew that he wouldn't be able to hold his emotions at bay much longer. There would come a time when Spock would either have to eradicate or face how he truly felt about what had happened that night, but he didn't know when that would be. He hoped –yes, hoped—that time wouldn't come until he'd had the chance to distance himself from his feelings about that night.

The memory of Jim's body against his was still so fresh, so vivid, and Jim's pleas still echoed in his mind. _"Spock, can I? I just…need."_ Need what? "Need release"? "Need you"? Spock clenched his teeth in frustration. What had Jim meant by "I need"? Spock knew what he wanted the answer to be, but there was no way of knowing without asking Jim outright, and that was something he would never do. If Jim had cared, he would have brought it up by now, it was not his way to neglect a problem that needed solving. Obviously Spock had just been a means to and end, and now that Jim was feeling better he saw no purpose for revisiting the incident.

Spock took a sip of tea, his eyes surveying the room over the rim of his cup. Jim was watching him again. When their eyes met, Jim smiled and beckoned to Spock.

"Come over here, Spock," he said, not bothering to raise his voice. Spock could hear him perfectly over the babble of voices in the cafeteria, but whether that was because of his Vulcan genes or because he was so attuned to the sound of Jim's voice he didn't want to think. Slowly, Spock stood up and crossed the room to join the others at their table. He did not sit down – there were no vacant chairs anyway – but stood at the opposite end of the table from where Jim was sitting.

"I got an email from Admiral Pike this morning," Jim was saying. "He didn't send it to only us, but I wanted to run it by you anyway. He's asking for a team to go to Delta Vega and repair the outpost there." Kirk glanced at Scotty, who was scowling at his plate of eggs and sausage. Kirk smiled a bit as he went on. "I know we've only been on leave for a couple days, but I would feel a lot better to be working rather than sitting around."

Spock looked around at the others, gauging their reactions to Kirk's pronouncement. Uhura was staring into the mug of coffee in her hands and probably didn't care whether or not they went, but she hadn't beamed down to Sirius III. She had stayed on the _Enterprise_, trying without success to contact Starfleet for reinforcements. Sulu, Chekov, and Scotty had been part of the original landing party, but they had been beamed back before the massacre had begun. Of the three of them, only Scotty looked displeased by the news, but Spock was certain this was more because of where they would be going than the fact that he wanted shore leave. Of all four-hundred-thirty-two people aboard the _Enterprise_, only Scotty had refused shore leave as often as Spock. Nurse Chapel looked the most interested in the idea, but Spock couldn't help noticing that her eyes kept flickering in his direction and was certain her answer would depend largely upon his.

"But it's not just up to me," Kirk continued, "so I'm going to put it to a vote. All in favor of going to Delta Vega?" Sulu and Chekov put up their hands almost immediately, followed by Uhura. Jim looked across the table at Spock. Spock looked back at him, still undecided about going. It would be nearly impossible to distance himself from Jim on Delta Vega, but voting against the Captain might raise suspicion, and Spock was nowhere near ready to confront him about what had happened. Also, Spock reasoned, using his free time to work instead of relaxing _was_ highly logical. After several seconds of silently staring into Jim's eyes, Spock raised his hand in affirmation. Jim's face split into an overwhelmingly dazzling smile, and Spock looked away, noticing that Nurse Chapel had waited until his vote to raise her own hand.

"Sorry, Scotty," Jim said, turning to the disgruntled engineer. "I know you're not keen on going back there, but…" he trailed off. Spock looked up from studying the tabletop. _"'But' what? Jim, you need to stop speaking in unfinished sentences. I must know…!_ "But there's work to be done"? "But I'm tired of being on this Starbase"? "But I need to go back to the place where—" Spock had almost forgotten "—where I met the first Spock and discovered my destiny"? Spock found himself holding his breath as this crossed his mind. On Delta Vega, Jim had met Spock's elder counterpart. He had never confided the details of this meeting to Spock, and until now Spock had managed to put it from his mind. But now they were going back to Delta Vega.

"Something on your mind, Spock?"

Spock looked up. Jim had walked around the table and was standing at his elbow. He was wearing the gold command shirt - he must have anticipated a good reception to his proposition – and the gold made his eyes stand out a vivid turquoise. Spock could feel the warmth of the Human's breath on his face, such was their closeness. Spock took an automatic step back.

"Delta Vega," he said simply.

"Yeah…" Jim said. "I'm sure you of all people understand why I need to go back there." Jim's smile was sad, and Spock took another step back against the urge to smother Jim's sadness with a kiss.

"I do understand," he said. "I will admit, I am curious as to where, and how, you encountered my older self."

_And how, _how_ he persuaded you to keep his secret._

"I'll take you there, if we ever get the time," Jim said. "From what Scotty's told me, the outpost is in pretty bad shape. But if we get time, we'll go."

Spock stared into the unspoken promise in Jim's eyes and felt something inside himself unwind. After spending all day trying to ignore the Human standing before him, Spock was at last able to breathe freely. It was as though Jim was oxygen, as though he was breathing life into Spock merely by existing, as though Spock had never needed anyone as much as he needed James Kirk, and he would not survive without him.

Jim was smiling now. "What?" he asked playfully. "Do I have food in my teeth?" He grinned broadly, displaying two rows of perfectly white, food-less teeth.

Spock nearly smiled in spite of himself.

"No, Jim, there is nothing wrong with your teeth."

"Oh, good," said Jim, miming a toss of his hair. "For a moment there I thought my beauty queen reputation was at stake."

Spock quirked an eyebrow, but did not dignify Jim's behavior with a response.

"Come on, Spock," Kirk said, giving him a slap on the shoulder. Spock's skin burned at the contact. "The shuttle leaves at 1100, we'd better get packed and whatnot."

As they exited the cafeteria, they passed Scotty ordering a single-malt from the replicator. Kirk nudged him and said, "Be sure to bring along some sandwiches." The pair of them grinned conspiratorially, but Spock had no idea what they were talking about.

"I won't need to," Scotty said with a laugh. "Admiral Pike sent me the email as well. Supposed to install and program a replicator in the outpost. 'S about bloody time." As they walked on, Kirk couldn't seem to stop smiling.

"You look…unusually cheerful, Captain."

"Just remembering stuff."

Jim's answer had been deliberately vague; he was obviously waiting for Spock to take the bait. Spock was silent for a few minutes, his mind split between wondering what Jim was remembering and trying to keep himself from asking the question. Before long, though, his curiosity won out.

"If I may ask, what is it about your memories that makes you so happy?"

"Just something Scotty said when I first met him. Spock – old Spock – and I had just told him he was from the future, and all he had to say about it was, 'Are there still sandwiches there?'"

Spock nodded. "Yes, Mr. Scott does have a fondness for sandwiches."

They rounded the corner and saw Nurse Chapel waiting for the turbolift at the other end of the hall. As they neared her, Spock crossed behind the Captain as though physical space could distance him from the Human woman's irrational affection. As they descended in the lift, Chapel volunteered to come help Spock pack. He shook her off at his door, telling her that he was already nearly packed, and to possibly assist Nyota instead. At this, Chapel's face lit up and she whispered, "Oh yeah…!" before rushing down the hall to Uhura's room. She was so excited she even forgot to say goodbye to Spock.

Christine skidded to a halt outside Nyota's door, pressing the buzzer impatiently. She could faintly hear music playing inside. It sounded a bit like Beethoven, but Christine had never heard it before. The door slid open.

"Oh, good, it's just you," Nyota said as Christine entered the rom. She was folding her clothes back into her small suitcase. Her dressing gown, Christine knew, had been handmade in Tanzania and no clothes replicator in the galaxy could recreate it. Nyota turned down the volume on the computer's sound system as Christine surveyed the room.

"What music was that?" she asked.

"Mnenkha. She's Romulan," Nyota said curtly.

"It's beautiful," Christine said. Nyota didn't reply. "So…how'd it go last night?" she asked.

"It didn't," Nyota replied coolly.

"Come again?"

"It didn't go. As in, nothing happened."

"Why not? I mean-wow, it's really none of my business, I should shut up."

Nyota shrugged. "He 'wasn't ready'." She tossed a dress across the room into the recycling chute. "How could I be so _stupid_? I honestly believed him when he used to tell me he was too preoccupied with work. But I guess even Vulcans can make excuses." She fell silent, walking restlessly around the room, picking up jewelry and a single shoe.

"That sucks," Christine said, crossing the room to help Nyota fold clothes.

"Mm hmm." Nyota's lips were pressed together in a thin line. "And there's no chance of it happening on Delta Vega either, not with all the _work_ that we'll be doing there."

Christine nodded sympathetically. "Maybe after Delta Vega, when we go to New Vulcan, he'll be more comfortable with it, if it's a more familiar atmosphere."

Nyota shrugged again. "If only there was some way I could persuade him, some way to change his mind… But he's so damn _stoic_ all the time—" She broke off, her eyes narrowing.

Because Spock wasn't stoic _all_ the time, not one hundred percent. There was only one person who had managed to get any reaction out of Spock, and that person was not Nyota Uhura.

It was James T. Kirk.

Nyota had often watched them together on the bridge, and over the last two years had realized that together the two of them, Kirk and Spock that is, were like corresponding pieces of a jigsaw puzzle. Even when they'd only known each other for less than twenty-four hours, they'd already been finishing each other's sentences, and by the time six months had passed they hardly had to speak at all. Merely a look, a nod, a name spoken in a whisper, and all was understood. Spock had even nearly killed Kirk once, all because Kirk had understood so perfectly how to get under Spock's Vulcan skin.

Nyota should have realized then what it meant, but she didn't. She saw it now, though. No matter what did or didn't happen between her and Spock, she would never have all of him. No matter how much work either of them put into their relationship, it would always be easier, more natural, for Spock to be with Kirk.

"Nyota, you're bleeding."

Nyota blinked and looked down at her hands. Her fingers were wrapped so tightly around one of her medallion necklaces that the metal was cutting into her fingers. A thin trickle of blood was running down her fingers.

"Dammit," she muttered.

Christine scurried across to the bathroom to find some medi-spray. She squirted it onto Nyota's palm and dusted off the drying blood.

"Thanks," said Nyota dryly. She pressed a button on the wall and a mini vacuum-bot zoomed out of the wall to clean the floor. As she watched it zipping back and forth, Nyota had to fight the urge to stomp on it.

* * *

Half an hour later, the Enterprise bridge crew – plus Nurse Chapel – were seated comfortably in their first-class personal transport shuttle. As Sulu piloted them out of the hangar deck, Kirk leaned forward eagerly, pressing his nose against the window. Spock watched from across the shuttle. Kirk's back was so straight it was almost arching backwards, his shoulders pulling up in excitement. He was practically glowing.

Spock was unaware of the tension in his body until he felt it leave, every muscle in his body loosening as he watched Jim's unbridled happiness. For a moment he thought he saw Jim's eyes slide in his direction, but he couldn't be sure. He was nearly certain Jim had been disappointed when Spock chose a seat on the other end of the shuttle, but Spock knew it was best to keep his distance.

"Going to warp in three, two, one…" Sulu said as the ship jumped smoothly into warp space. Kirk watched the stars until they vanished, replaced by the rippling blur of a warp field. He leaned back I his chair, swiveling away from the window.

"Anyone for a drink?" he asked, standing up and walking towards the back of the shuttle where a replicator was installed. He scanned the card register – crackers, soft drinks, a few sweets. "There's not much on here, as it's only a short flight, but who wants some?"

Spock watched Kirk passing out drinks to his crew, and he could feel his expression softening. He knew that none of the Humans would notice his almost-smile, the way his gaze slid over Kirk's body with a languor that was almost possessive. After the confusion of the last few days, Spock could only be certain of one thing: he was never going to leave Jim's side.

Jim did not care about their brief encounter, that much was obvious now, and Spock was never going to tell him. To do so would jeopardize Jim's friendship with him, and nothing, _nothing_ was worth that risk. Jim would most likely be fine without him, Spock knew, but there was no way he would survive without James Kirk. He had not known the ties of friendship could run so deep, and Spock would sacrifice anything to keep Jim in his life, including his own longing for anything more.

As was his wont, Jim turned suddenly around to face Spock, his cerulean eyes smiling down at the Vulcan's still figure.

"Thirsty, Spock?" he asked, his voice so low that only Spock could hear it.

Spock stared back at him, not bothering to conceal the thoughts in his eyes, knowing the Human wouldn't recognize them, daring him to do so in spite of his fears.

Jim just smiled, waiting for Spock's answer.

"No thank you, I am not thirsty," Spock said. Jim raised his eyebrows and slid a card into the replicator. When it dinged, he held the glass of water out to Spock.

Spock looked at it, trying to quell the irrational Human recklessness fighting its way out of him. He failed.

He put up his hand for the glass, wrapping his long fingers around it, resting his hand over Jim's. Such casual contact was common among Humans, and Jim would think nothing of this save that Spock was at last becoming more comfortable with his Human cohorts. And Jim just kept smiling as he slid his hand from beneath Spock's, the backs of his fingernails grazing the pads of Spock's fingers. Spock snapped his jaw shut, clenching his teeth and holding his breath against the ripple of _want _making its way up his spine. For half a second he held completely still. Then he forced a smile into his eyes and nodded his thanks.

_That must not happen again_, Spock told himself as Jim made his way back to his seat at the front of the shuttle. He flexed his fingers experimentally, trying to will the tingling out of them, the green flush on his palm to fade. When it did not, he curled his hand into a fist, holding it as tightly as he could for a solid minute. He observed, as though detached from his body, how the pain of his fingernails digging into his flesh dulled the nerves in his hand to any other sensation, and logged this information away for future use. Then he opened his hand, studying the line of dark-green half-moons across his palm.

If pain was what it took to rid his body of its ridiculous longing to possess that of the Human James Kirk, then so be it.

* * *

The shuttle carrying the supplies and tools they would need to repair the outpost had not arrived by that evening, and a few of the crewmembers were complaining about having to go to bed hungry. Mr. Scott stood with Sulu in the corner, sharing his whisky and casting dark looks around the room, obviously looking for Kirk. The small dark alien named Keenzer stood at Scotty's elbow, and the Scotsman was pretending to ignore him, but his elbow kept brushing the alien's shoulder.

Spock was standing in an opposite corner, observing silently as the crew explored the station. Jim was nowhere to be seen. He had disappeared shortly after they entered the outpost, and no one had seen him since. Spock repressed a shiver and pushed his hands farther into the pockets of his coat. The only fully functioning heater in the entire station was in the lavatory. Nurse Chapel had found a stash of coats in a closet and passed them out to each crewmember shortly after arriving, but the air inside the outpost was still several degrees below anything they were used to.

"Hey, Spock, c'mere a sec," Kirk's voice echoed from around the corner. Spock followed his voice down a hall and into the first of two doors on the right hand side.

It was a bedroom, Spock realized, then corrected himself. _Sleeping quarters_ would have been a more apt description. The room was, in a word, Spartan. The floor was the same concrete as the rest of the outpost, the walls the same reinforced insulated steel. As with the rest of the structure, there were no windows. The weather on Delta Vega was too cold – not to mention too extreme – to allow for even the smallest lack of insulation. There were three metal-frame cots along one wall. Only one of these had been recently used. A small knot of blankets at the head showed that this was where Keenzer had been sleeping. A door on the opposite wall stood ajar, revealing a linen cupboard full of shelves, each stacked with several thick blankets. Spock had known the outpost was old, but these primitive conditions were suggestive of late 21st century design, and had probably not been updated since then.

Kirk was nowhere to be seen.

"Captain?"

"Hey, Spock," Kirk said, coming out of a door behind which Spock had assumed was another closet. "As you can see, we've got a bit of a problem. How are all five of us going to fit on three beds?"

Spock stepped back automatically as Kirk approached, running his fingers across the palms of his hand. He couldn't feel the indents from his fingernails anymore.

"What is behind that door?" he asked, nodding towards the door through which Kirk had come.

"The bathroom and the girls' room. Well, I assume it's the girls' room. If we're in here, then yeah." Kirk was heading back towards the bathroom door. Spock followed at a distance.

The bathroom was small. There was a water shower with what looked like a sonic dryer-system installed. Spock followed Kirk through another door and into the other bedroom, which was laid out exactly like the first.

"I believe," said Spock, edging into the room behind Jim, "that we should move one of the beds from this room into the other. Nurse Chapel and Lieutenant Uhura do not need more than one bed apiece."

"Yeah," said Kirk, walking over to the row of cots. Spock looked at the floor, his hand curled into fists, forcing himself not to acknowledge the fact that he and Kirk were alone, in a bedroom, quite separated from the rest of the crew – and the way Kirk's coat hung just so on his shoulders, just a touch away from sliding to the floor—

"Spock."

Spock looked up, uncurling his fists and running his fingers over his smarting palms.

"My apologies, Captain," he said, crossing the room to help Kirk carry a cot. They shuffled through the bathroom and out into the first bedroom, then lined the cot up with the others and stepped back.

"We'll leave this one for Keenzer," Kirk said, nudging the used cot with his toe. "Then the five of us can squish onto these three."

As hard as Spock tried, he could not stop the flash burn that rippled over his skin at the thought of sharing a bed with Kirk.

"What do you think, Spock?" Kirk said, flopping down onto one of the cots. "Could five people fit comfortably onto three beds?"

"With one and a half persons to a bed," Spock said, "Yes, I believe so."

"Let's see," Kirk said with a grin, scooting over and patting the bed next to him. Spock refused to move, unwilling to compromise himself any further. He ran his fingertips across his palms again. "Spock, I need your help," Jim said, his voice a bit softer this time, but he was still grinning.

Almost against his will, hating himself for his subservience, Spock dragged himself across the room toward the bed where Jim lay. He held his breath has he knelt on the foot of the bed and crawled forward to lie next to Jim. He could hear his heartbeat fluttering in the stillness, and Jim's heartbeat as well, almost as fast as his own. He forced himself to ignore that. There would be plenty of time to analyze Jim's behavior later, when everyone else was asleep, Spock told himself. He squeezed himself onto the same cot as Jim, taking extra care to not touch any of the Human's skin with his own.

"Yep," said Jim after a moment's silence, "looks like we'll all fit just fine."

Spock climbed off the cot as quickly as he could.

"Jeez, Spock, where's the fire?" Jim asked as he heaved himself off the groaning mattress. Spock merely raised an eyebrow at him, not trusting himself to speak. Jim waggled his eyebrows. Spock looked away.

"Captain?" Uhura's voice sounded from down the hall.

"In here!" Kirk called, not moving from where he stood by the bed. Across the room, Spock was still staring at the floor.

"There's a—" Uhura trailed off as she entered the room, her eyes quickly taking in Kirk, the bed, and Spock standing as far away as he could. Her stomach dropped a few inches, but she had come to deliver a message and her duties as Communications officer came before anything else. She cleared her throat and started over. "Captain, there's a message from Admiral Pike for you on the computer."

"Thank you, Lieutenant," Kirk said, back in Captain mode now. He strode out of the room. Uhura took a few tentative steps toward Spock, who finally looked up from the floor now that the Captain was gone.

"Are you okay?" she asked.

Spock nodded once. "I am fine," he said.

Uhura muttered under her breath, " 'Fine has variable definitions, fine is unacceptable.' " Spock closed the distance between them in three strides.

"I _am_ fine," he said softly, placing a hand on the side of her face.

"If you need anything, you'll tell me, right?" she asked in a small voice.

"Of course," Spock said.

Uhura smiled. "I'm starving. I know there's _something_ to eat around here. Let's see what we can find." And she led the way from the room, her brown hair swishing behind her as she walked.

* * *

Things were a bit difficult that evening, trying to get everyone situated in order to sleep. Kirk had explained about the bed situation, much to the delight of Nurse Chapel and Uhura. Keenzer looked pleased as well, though it was hard to tell with the small alien. Scotty seemed utterly unaffected by the announcement, merely sighing with the same expression of longsuffering he'd been wearing since they arrived. Spock tried very hard to ignore the high pink spots in Chekov's cheeks, and settled for looking at a spot on the wall over Kirk's head.

"Now, before you all head off to your various sleeping spaces," Kirk said, "I have one more thing to say: Admiral Pike contacted me and told me the supplies we'll need left Starbase 1 yesterday, and will be here sometime tomorrow. I suggest we all get a good night's rest—" Spock couldn't resist raising one eyebrow "—so we're fresh tomorrow."

As it turned out, the male crewmembers were very particular about where they slept. Chekov seemed to be permanently attached to Sulu's left elbow (although no one seemed to have noticed), and Scotty insisted on sleeping in the middle of the group so he didn't "freeze his goddamned arse off in this bloody icebox." In the end, it was decided that Sulu would sleep on one end next to Chekov, with Scotty in the middle, then Kirk and Spock on the other end.

Knowing full well how dangerous it would be to have less than enough breathing space, Spock had taken Kirk aside a few minutes earlier and requested a space on the end, citing his need for less sleep than Humans and the fact that he'd probably be retiring and rising while they were all sleeping. Now he saw Jim running a hand over the back of his neck as he orchestrated the sleeping arrangements and nearly smirked in spite of himself, remembering how goose bumps had erupted along the Human's skin when Spock had whispered low in his ear.

Spock waited until everyone else was lying down before pulling his own blanket off the shelf and lying down next to Kirk. He held as still as he could and set about preparing himself for what was sure to be the longest night of his life.

* * *

**END CHAPTER 3**

* * *

**A/N: I know, plotty chapter is plotty. Chapter 4 will be better, I promise! Now I had better go do some homework... For some reason my brain thinks it's Friday even thought it's only Wednesday...**


	5. The Course of True Love

**Look, look! It hasn't even been a month! Granted, it's still longer that I thought or hoped it would be… But! Not yet a month! That's good, right?**

* * *

**THE EXPENSE OF SPIRIT**

**Chapter 4: **

**The Course of True Love Never Did Run Smooth**

* * *

Spock had not been wrong. This night was certainly the longest he had ever experienced. He had never fully appreciated how much space work and sleep had occupied in his mind – until now, when he could do neither. Spock had pulled his fair share of all-nighters in the past, working on some experiment or other, but never before had he forced himself to stay awake because – he almost didn't dare think it – he was afraid of what would happen if he allowed himself to relax. The night before had been difficult enough, and Kirk had not been anywhere near him then.

The morning they'd left for Delta Vega, Spock had awoken tangled in his sheets, a not-altogether-unpleasant ache between his legs. He'd lain there for a while, warring with himself about how best to deal with his growing … problem. He had not yet been through _pon farr_, thanks to his Human heritage, but this only meant that his hormones were still in the somewhat unregulated state that an average Vulcan teenager experienced. Until now, he had been grateful to have skipped his first one or two _pon farr_s – some Vulcan males experienced _pon farr_ as early as fourteen years of age, but most not until twenty-one – but now he wished he had been through one, just so he could have the much-desired control over his own body.

He had ended up meditating until the arousal faded, but he knew that if he allowed himself to slip, even for a few minutes, while lying next to Jim… The outcome did not bear thinking about. Sleeping was out of the question.

Kirk rolled over in his sleep, and Spock scooted even closer to the edge of the bed. If he had to move again, he would end up on the floor. As tempting as this prospect was, Spock was relying on the combined body heat of the Humans more than he wanted to admit. So he held very still and tried to focus – yet again – on trying to distract himself.

He had been listening hard nearly all night, and could now identify the men in the room by the sounds of their breath. Chekov was quiet, taking slow, deep breaths through his nose. Next to him, Sulu's breaths were faster, though nearly as deep. Scotty snored lightly in the middle, evidently very relaxed. Kirk was curled up on his side, facing Spock, his uneven breath brushing warmly across Spock's neck no matter how far away Spock tried to scoot.

Kirk moved again, flinging one arm across Spock's chest. Spock sucked in a sharp breath between his teeth as Kirk's fingers curled around the fabric of his shirt, pulling him closer, unusually strong for a sleeping Human. Spock could feel his heartbeat accelerating, and bit down on the inside of his cheek. Kirk nuzzled closer, his nose puffing hot air into the space behind Spock's ear. Spock shuddered. Small noises were coming from between Kirk's lips, small sad noises, and he pulled Spock closer until he was flush against the Vulcan's body.

Kirk shivered, his muscles clamping down with surprising strength on Spock's body. Spock wondered for a minute if Kirk was having some sort of fit, but then the Human spoke.

"Cold," he mumbled. Almost immediately, Spock's fears and doubts evaporated. His own cowardice, the self-disgust which pervaded him, vanished, because his own pathetic, terribly _Human_ problems were trivial in the face of Jim's pain. Instinctively, Spock wrapped his arm around Jim's body. He lifted himself up on one elbow to maneuver his blanket over himself and Kirk, then lowered himself gently down onto the Human's shuddering form.

A quiet sigh escaped Jim's lips, and Spock bit back a noise of his own as Jim shifted under him. There was a small part of his brain that niggled at him, trying to remind him why this shouldn't be a good idea. But Spock was so absorbed in the feel of Jim's body against his that he hardly cared. He could feel Jim's breath on his neck – hot, moist, shuddering breaths that set Spock's heart racing. He lowered himself a fraction of an inch more, the weight of his body settling lightly into Jim's. Spock let himself relax, his head rested in the crook of Jim's neck.

After several too-short minutes, the Human became still, and Spock could hear his heart rate returning to its usual speed. Spock prepared to ease himself off of Kirk's body, and as he shifted his weight gently onto his elbows, he noticed a certain hardness in the region of his groin that … did not belong to him. He froze, not even daring to breathe. It was then that the still-sleeping Jim began to move against Spock's body with instinctive movements, movements clearly meant to stimulate his growing erection.

To his dismay, Spock felt his body respond. Without thinking, he leapt off the bed, only half-aware that he could at any moment awaken the sleeping Humans. He paused just long enough to pull his coat out from under the bed before he was out of the room.

* * *

Kirk found Spock just before sunrise the next morning, walking around the outside of the building.

"How long have you been up, Spock?" he said, pulling his coat on as he fell into step beside Spock.

"I left the sleeping quarters at oh-four-hundred," said Spock. "I did not require any more rest than I had already acquired, and saw no reason to remain."

"Uh huh," said Jim. "And you decided to carve a new trail, did you?" He nodded to the deep track in the snow that now encircled the entire outpost.

"It was logical," said Spock, "to keep my body temperature significantly high to avoid freezing. I came out to observe the stars, and found the movement sufficient to keep me warm while I watched them and awaited the dawn."

Spock finally looked up into Jim's face. The Human looked more alive than Spock had seen him in weeks. The cold air had brought blood into his cheeks, and his bright blue eyes were sparkling in the predawn light with what Spock had come to call "wanderlust." It was the same wild excited adventurous expression that Jim wore every time they beamed down to a new planet. Spock had heard the term before, but had never fully understood its meaning until he met Jim. Whatever the Human's vices, they could all be blamed on his lust for adventure.

As Spock looked at Jim, the sun rose, lighting the Human's face with a resplendent yellow light, brightening his eyes so they almost glowed. Spock's breath caught in his chest. It was as though he was realizing for the first time (again) how exquisite Jim's beauty was. He could feel his body straining itself to be closer to Kirk, and he almost couldn't refrain from leaning just ever so slightly towards him. Hardly a few seconds had passed since Spock had finished speaking, but it felt like several minutes to the Vulcan. At last, Jim broke free of his gaze and glanced towards the sunrise.

"Well it's dawn now," he said with a smile. The sunlight off his white teeth was dazzling. "And I believe you and I have a date." His eyebrows lifted a fraction as he said this, and Spock's stomach gave a funny nervous sort of lurch.

"Yes, I believe we do," said Spock, allowing some warmth to seep into his expression.

"Let's get our stuff and get out of here!" Jim said, turning back towards the building.

* * *

Armed with phasers, two jackets apiece, and a tricorder to help with navigation, Kirk and Spock set out across the frozen plains of Delta Vega. The tricorder beeped at intervals, keeping them informed of their surroundings. It was a rare sunny day, and the light scattered in rainbow shards off the snow. The deep blue sky arched overhead, lit by Delta Vega's bright yellow sun. Jim had unearthed a pair of sunglasses from somewhere, and Spock's dark eyelashes helped to diffuse the sunlight around his pupils. If it wasn't so cold, Spock would have thought they were crossing the Vulcan salt desert, remnant of an ancient sea.

They walked in companionable silence, the only sound the crunch of the snow beneath their feet and the occasional beep of the tricorder. Gradually, the sun moved higher in the sky, and the mountains in the distance grew closer. Kirk stopped quite suddenly, and Spock turned. Kirk was fiddling with the tricorder in his hands.

"We're getting close," he said. He held the tricorder out to Spock, who took it carefully. A digital scan of the terrain ahead showed a deep ravine, and a faint dark spot on the far side where the cave would be. Spock felt a thrill of anticipation run through him.

This was the place, he was sure, where the answers would become clear to him. A thousand questions flooded his mind, questions he had not even realized he wanted to ask. What had the elder Spock told Jim about his destiny? What had been the relationship between the first Spock and the first Jim Kirk? Had anything remotely like _this_ ever happened to them? How was Spock now to overcome this insurmountable obstacle? Surely the echoes of the first Spock's mind would resonate in the space he had occupied, and Spock could find answers among them.

Kirk had started walking again, his stride more purposeful, almost buoyant. His excitement was obvious. Spock caught up to him quickly.

"Keep your phaser ready," Kirk said. "Last time I was here I almost got eaten by a hengrauggi."

Spock raised an eyebrow. "How did you escape?"

"I didn't," Jim said. "Spock saved me."

Spock wondered at the reverence in the Human's tone. A wave of guilt and gratitude swept over him. If it weren't for him, Kirk wouldn't have been attacked at all, and if it weren't for his older self, Kirk would have been eaten alive.

"Get ready…" Kirk said, a smile in his voice. Spock looked up just in time to see Jim vanish over the lip of the ravine.

"Jim!" The cry was ripped from Spock's throat before the Vulcan even had time to think. He hurried to the edge of the ravine and looked down. Jim was sliding to a stop at the bottom of the slope. He dusted himself off and turned around.

"Come on, Spock, don't be a scaredy cat," he called. "Balance yourself like this." Jim leaned back slightly, one arm behind, one arm raised in front of him. Spock sat down in the snow and eased his legs over the edge. Before he could allow any fear into his mind, he pushed off and slid down the hill to join Kirk.

As he stood up, he surprised an expression on the Human's face that he had only ever seen a small number of times before. Jim's eyes were narrow and glowing, his lips parted in an almost-smile. Spock stood silently, staring back into the blue eyes, and raised one eyebrow almost haughtily as if to say, "Well?"

Jim gave a small shake of his head. "That was really smooth, Spock," he said with a grin. "You'd make a great snowboarder." Spock didn't think this ridiculous claim deserved a reply, and looked away, searching for the cave opening. Jim started walking as he did, evidently already knowing where the cave was.

"Are we close?" Spock asked, his anticipation getting the better of him. Kirk pointed wordlessly. Spock followed Kirk's finger. Up ahead was a nearly circular opening in the cliff face. Kirk sped up, and Spock matched his stride easily.

Just inside the cave opening was a large cavern, and a narrow passage led deeper into the mountain. Kirk went through confidently. Spock followed at a distance, feeling the area carefully with his shields down. There was a familiar flavor here, but it was faint. Still, he could recognize the mind of his older self. Clearly, at lot had happened while Spock had been hiding in this cave.

Spock had barely set foot into the second room when it hit him. A crushing wave of sadness so exquisite it could only be Vulcan. No Human could survive pain this deep. Spock's legs buckled, his knees hitting the ground with a dull thud. He bowed beneath the onslaught of despair that echoed through the very rocks, the foundation of the mountain. How many days had he spent in here alone? What displays of anguish had these ancient stone walls been witness to? Spock put his face in his hands, unable to stop the tears that filled his eyes.

Spock had felt keenly the deaths of the six billion Vulcans who perished that day, had felt their consciousness leave the universe, their souls unsaved in the Katric Ark, floating nameless forever. Here was his own pain redoubled, wrapped in layers of guilt and a longing for a future that the Vulcans would never know. It pressed down, a physical weight on Spock's body. He could hear an odd gasping sound, but was unaware it came from his own throat as he struggled to breathe against the choking tears. He pressed his forehead into the stone floor.

"Spock?" Jim's voice was quiet, careful. "Are you okay?"

For several minutes, Spock didn't answer. He knelt on the floor in silence, struggling to breathe, a pebble digging into his forehead. After a while, he dried his eyes on his sleeve, still bent over so Jim would not see.

"I am," he said, standing up and surveying the cave around them. "You must tell me, Jim, exactly what happened that day." He stared straight into Jim's eyes. Jim's eyes widened a fraction, and Spock wondered what the Human saw on his face. His eyes, no doubt, were rimmed with green, traitorous evidence of his tears. Perhaps the Human could feel the pain that filled the room, perhaps he already knew why the elder Spock had been so devastatingly sad.

"I was running from the Hengrauggi," Jim began. "I fell down the hill and found the cave, but it got in. It was about to eat me – you know those tongue things they have? It had me by the ankle. But all of a sudden this guy showed up with a torch and scared it off. He turned around and said he knew me. He said, 'I have been and always shall be your friend.' Then he told me he was Spock but I thought that was bullshit because you hated me."

Spock bit his tongue so he wouldn't speak.

"But then he … I don't know what to call it … He put his hand up, like this, on my face—" Jim did his best to align his fingertips to the psi-points on his skull "—and I _saw_ things."

"Kash-nohv," Spock said quietly. "It translates to mind meld."

"Yeah, that sounds familiar," Jim said.

"What did he show you?" Spock prompted.

"He was from the future," Jim said. "A hundred and twenty-nine years. The star by Romulus was going to supernova, so the Vulcans tried to stop it. They had that ship, the one you crashed into the Narada, and Spock was supposed to use the red matter to stop the star, only it exploded into Romulus. The only Romulans left were on the Narada, and they attacked him. He put the red matter in the star, and it opened up a wormhole. The Narada went in, that's when it attacked the Kelvin, on the day I was born. Spock went through next, but didn't come out until twenty five years later. Nero stole his ship and left Spock here."

Spock took a deep breath. "Oh," he said at last. The sadness threatened to overwhelm him again. He took a few more deep breaths, pushing his shields up against the crushing guilt. Elder Spock had considered himself responsible for the destruction of Vulcan, and of Romulus. Spock squeezed his eyes shut. Today was the first day he had cried since he was a very young child, and he had no inclination of starting again now. Something else nagged at the back of his mind.

"How did he know you?" he asked, looking up again into Jim's concerned face.

"We, well the first ones, served on the _Enterprise_ together. Kirk was Captain, and I think that's why Old Spock wanted to help me get back. He kept talking about the timeline trying to fix itself, like … fate. Like I was supposed to be Captain, and you were supposed to be my First Officer."

Spock had a brief memory of his older self telling him something similar. His immediate instinct was to trust the old Vulcan, and how could he not? It was _him_ after all.

"Kinda weird, huh? You and me, even though all that crap happened with Nero, still ended up on the _Enterprise_ together, just like we would have if Nero never showed up."

"But there are a few of us … missing," Spock said sadly. Unable to hold the Human's gaze any longer, he looked away.

"Yeah…" Jim said, his voice barely a whisper.

They were silent for a few moments, each absorbed in his own thoughts about the parents lost in the war with Nero. Neither of them were orphans, but they might as well be, between Winona's flightiness and Sarek's distance.

"You are very lucky, Jim, to have been able to learn from him what you did," Spock said after a while.

"You think so?"

Spock nodded, but was unable to express how he was at once jealous of Kirk and of the elder Spock for what they had shared here.

Jim cleared his throat. "There's one more place I want to find before we head back," he said. "We'd better get going."

Spock followed him out, feeling as though he'd just exited some sort of pressurized room or other. The air outside felt almost impossibly light.

They managed to climb out of the ravine with relative ease, following the route that Jim and old Spock had taken. Spock was quiet, lost in his thoughts. So many questions left unanswered, and only one, one halfway across the galaxy, who could answer them.

Spock envied Jim. The Human seemed to have everything figured out, know exactly where his life was going. Spock compared the present Kirk with the Kirk he'd met in San Francisco. That Kirk had been belligerent, defiant, and lost. He had been intent on proving wrong the world's opinion of him, uncaring of the consequences. The Kirk walking beside him now was more man than boy, aware of his place, striving to cause good change in the universe, and to not cause more harm that was necessary. He was considerate and kind, and without his defiance still managed incredible strength. Spock had seen lesser men crack under the pressures put on them by Starfleet, both in training and on missions. Kirk was not one of these men. It was for all these reasons, and many more Spock could not name, that he had fallen in love with Jim.

He couldn't name a time, or place it had happened. All he knew was that it had. To say he didn't love Jim was the blackest of lies.

"We should be nearly there," Kirk said, jerking Spock out of his musings. He was looking at the tricorder intently. Spock looked around at the area. They had left the mountains behind some time ago, and there was nothing at all nearby except for a shadow on the plain before them. It was towards this that they walked.

The shadow turned out to be a deep, crater-like hole in the snow. Spock looked down, down until he could see what lay at the bottom: the survival pod in which he had marooned Kirk all those months ago.

Anger and guilt flooded Spock before he could stop them.

"Why have you brought me here, Jim?" he asked, his voice harsher than he intended. "Was it to mock me with what I did to you?"

"No. Spock, no. I just wanted to see if I could find it, if it was even still here. I didn't think… I had no idea you would feel so … um, however you're feeling."

Spock wished he could explain his guilt. He wished he could find the courage to tell Jim how terrible he felt for banishing him to this frozen wasteland, and how, even now, the thought of a future without Jim, even a future where Nero had succeeded, left an empty black space where his heart should be.

But to admit any of this to Jim would be to open himself up to the Human's rejection, and no truth-telling was worth that risk.

So Spock turned away from the emotion in Jim's blue eyes, gazing instead across the frozen plain.

"You must know, Jim," he said slowly, measuring every word, "that although I wanted you off of the _Enterprise_…" He paused, collecting his thoughts. "Seeing now firsthand the desolation of this planet has made me realize I was wrong to maroon you here. I am sorry." Yes, he told himself, Delta Vega's inhospitable conditions were a perfect excuse for his guilt – and it was at least party true.

"Spock," Jim said softly, closing the distance between them and placing a hand on the Vulcan's shoulder, "_you_ must know that, if you hadn't marooned he here, we would all be dead. You and I, and all that we know, would cease to exist."

Spock froze. Was it possible that Jim had guessed about his feelings, or remembered about that night? Was the Human finally admitting some significance to what had passed between them? He searched the Human's eyes carefully.

No, the secret was still safe. And Spock intended to keep it that way.

"So," said Jim with a smile, "you're forgiven for dumping me in this wasteland."

Spock had to remind himself not to smile in return.

* * *

End Chapter 4


	6. My Reason Hath Left Me

**Two weeks! Well, plus a couple days. But I'm getting better!**

**I apologize if Spock seems a little OOC in this one. It'll all work out, just not…yet.**

* * *

**THE EXPENSE OF SPIRIT**

**Chapter 5: **

**My Reason Hath Left ME**

* * *

Delta Vega's yellow sun was beginning to set by the time Kirk and Spock came in view of the outpost.

"Hey!" said Kirk joyfully. "Finally. I'm starving." His stomach growled loudly as he said this. Spock gave him a sideways look, raising an eyebrow delicately. "Oh shut up, Spock," Kirk said. "_Some_ of us need food."

Spock didn't reply. He was almost unwilling to admit it to himself, but he was reluctant to return to the outpost. The gnawing sense of guilt that continually plagued him in Uhura's presence had faded while he was alone with Jim, but as they approached the squat, grey building it was coming back just as strong, if not stronger, than before. Spock knew the time was coming when he would have to tell Uhura the truth. There was nothing he wanted to do less, but he had always believed that lying was wrong, and knew that the longer he remained in a relationship with Nyota, the deeper his lie became.

Spock could no longer deny that he loved Jim. For so long, he had managed to convince himself that he truly loved Nyota, until he almost believed it himself. Spock knew he _should_ love her, knew that no one would condemn him for loving her. But the Spock that had allowed himself to be drawn into a relationship with Nyota had not known what the word "love" meant. Nyota was smart, amazingly brilliant for her age, and Spock had been fascinated by her. When she mistook his interest for affection, Spock could not find it in him to refuse her. He enjoyed her company, and foolishly thought there was nothing more to loving someone.

Enter James Tiberius Kirk. The only student to have ever beaten the Kobiyashi Maru test – Spock had never resented Jim for cheating. He had been surprised, of course, but admired the Human's ability to think outside the proverbial box. Spock would never have come up with such a solution on his own, never even considered that someone would reconfigure the entire system in order to beat the test. Academic decorum had dictated that Spock frown upon Jim's behaviour, but he had truthfully never felt anything but respect for him. In the subsequent months, Spock had seen Jim's brilliant mind save hundreds of lives. If Spock were to be perfectly honest, Jim was the smartest, most intriguing person he had ever known.

This, Spock was sure, was the beginning. This was why he sought out Jim's company above that of the rest of the crew. Jim's was a mind that could compete with his own. As their association continued, Spock found himself genuinely enjoying Jim's company, but it was not until Spock became aware that he preferred Jim's company to even that of Nyota that he realized how deep his feelings for Jim ran.

But Spock never acted on those feelings. Jim, he was certain, did not reciprocate, and there was Nyota to consider. Spock was very fond of her and had no desire to inflict any pain on the young woman. He saw no immediate reason to terminate their relationship – except his greater love for Jim than for Nyota, and this to him seemed selfish and inadequate.

Of course, that had been before… Before Sirius III. Everything changed after That Night.

Jim stopped suddenly, and Spock walked into him.

"Whoa, Spock," Jim said, turning around. Spock composed his face into a blank mask, but it was not enough. Jim stared deep into the Vulcan's eyes, a concerned line appearing between his eyebrows. "Something's up," he said finally. "What's going on, are you okay?"

_You must not know_, Spock thought. _It is too soon_.

"I am fine," he said quietly.

"Spock. Don't lie to me. I know something's up. What?"

Spock looked back at him for a long moment. The heartbeat pounding in his ears drowned out every other sound, but he kept his face impassive. He was possessed by a burning desire to confess everything, to tell Jim the truth, to finally be free of this all-consuming need to know _What if?_

But there was still the risk, and it was so great a risk. He took a deep breath.

"I cannot…" was all he managed to get out.

"That's okay," Jim said with a small encouraging smile. "I'm always here to listen if you need me, and I promise to not be judgy about any Vulcan weirdness."

Spock seriously doubted this, but said only, "Thank you, Jim."

"I was _going_ to say we should probably hurry it up a bit." Jim nodded towards the southern horizon. A massive wall of imposing black clouds loomed high above the frozen ground. The sky overhead was still a deep blue, but a cold breeze had begun to blow from beneath the clouds.

"Yes, that would be wise," Spock said, resuming his walk at a faster pace.

"I've heard Delta Vega's blizzards can be a real bitch," Kirk said. "Good thing we left when we did."

Spock nodded, choosing to save his breath for momentum and not waste it in speaking. The temperature was decreasing rapidly. Jim's teeth were chattering. Spock broke into a slow, steady run. Beside him, Jim mirrored his movements.

Something shifted in the periphery of Spock's vision, white on white. He slowed to a walk, drawing his phaser. Jim stopped a few meters ahead.

"What's-?"

Spock put a finger to his lips. He clenched his jaw to keep his teeth from chattering, staring silently at the place he had seen move.

For a few minutes, nothing happened. Spock was about to put his phaser down when a small animal stood up on shaky legs and ambled in their direction. A little, black, leathery face peered out of a ball of pure white fluff on legs. A tiny squeaking sound issued out of a pink mouth lined with miniscule razor teeth.

"Is that a baby drakoulias?" Jim asked, awestruck. "Who would have guessed they were so cute!" He approached the cub cautiously.

"Jim," Spock said cautiously, his gaze sweeping the area. If a baby drakoulias were here, the mother would not be far away. He held his phaser ready as the temperature continued to drop.

Jim ignored him, taking a few steps towards the creature, his hand outstretched. The drakoulias cub inched towards him, its little black nose held high to catch the Human's scent. Slowly, Jim laid the flat of his palm on the fluffy head. Spock took a few steps closer, the phaser trembling in his grasp. Whether this was from cold or anxiety he did not stop to think. The drakoulias hummed softly as Jim scratched its head, and Spock had to remind himself that it would be the epitome of illogic to feel jealously, especially towards a small furry animal.

"Jim," he said again, a bit louder this time.

"Chill, Spock," said Jim, kneeling in the snow. "We're almost there, we'll make it before the storm."

"The storm is not—"

"AARRGH!" Jim cried as he fell backward. A trickle of fresh red blood oozed out of a ragged hole in his pants, just above the knee. Almost before he realized what he was seeing, Spock's finger clenched on the trigger of his phaser and the drakoulias toppled over, unconscious, into the snow.

"Jim!" Spock's yell was torn from his throat as the wind picked up speed. He rushed forward and knelt at the Human's side. The snow where he lay was already stained a deep red.

"You fool," Spock whispered, not caring if Jim heard him. He pressed his hands onto Jim's thigh, trying desperately to staunch the flow of blood, but the fabric of Jim's pants was slick with it and Spock's hands slid off into the snow.

Spock gritted his teeth against the cold and forced down the zipper of his coat. He yanked his arms free of the sleeves and wrenched his sweater over his head. Too late, he realized he should have worn his uniform – at least then he would have an undershirt. He tried to put his coat back on, but he was shaking from the cold and Jim's leg was still bleeding warm and wet onto the snow, so he gave up. Spock fisted his hands around the shirt and tore with all his strength. The fibers gave easily under his hands. A sleeve would do – Spock wrapped the shredded fabric around Jim's thigh and pulled as tightly as his trembling hands would allow. Jim groaned in pain and the sound echoed in Spock's ears, even louder than the shrieking wind. He bent close to Jim's ear.

"You must keep your circulation down or the poison will spread," he shouted over the sound of the wind. "I will carry you." Without waiting for a response, Spock slid his arms beneath Jim's body and stood up. The Human's weight was next to nothing for Spock's Vulcan strength, but he staggered as the wind assaulted his skin, driving tiny ice crystals like Antarian throwing blades into his flesh. He could not afford to close his eyes, not even to blink, and felt his third eyelid slide into place. A small portion of his mind that was not focused on Jim or the wind or the distance between them and the outpost was interested in the fact that he had used his third eyelid more times in the last week than he ever had before, but there was no time to dwell on this.

He started towards the outpost with shuddering steps, knowing that they had to reach it before the storm grew any worse, or they never would.

"Spock," Jim said weakly. Spock risked a glance down at the Human in his arms. Already, the whites of Jim's eyes were shot through with red. The drakoulias's poison was acting quickly. Jim raised a trembling hand towards Spock's face. Spock sped up, almost running through the driving snow. He concentrated entirely on placing one foot in front of the other, and trying not to jostle his precious cargo.

Jim's fingertips ghosted over the side of Spock's face, and Spock couldn't stop the tremor that rippled across his bare skin. Jim's touch, even in the freezing air, was warm.

Was too warm.

Spock did not pause to think about how dangerously high Jim's temperature had become. He started to run, clutching the Human closer to his chest. He could feel the warmth of Jim's blood on his skin, and this propelled him forward.

"Why are you bleeding?" Kirk whispered.

"The ice is… being blown… into my skin," Spock said between breaths.

"Why are you shirtless?" Kirk said, his face confused, as though he had just noticed.

"I had to…remove my shirt…to make you a tourniquet. … Did not…have time…" Spock gave up trying to speak. There would be plenty of time to answer Jim's questions later. What mattered now was getting Jim to safety before it was too late. Spock was running as fast as he dared – any faster and he risked losing control on the icy ground.

They had nearly reached the outpost when Spock felt Jim go completely limp in his arms. He looked down. Jim's head was lolling back, only a sliver of white visible between his eyelids. Spock felt his stomach drop. Holding Jim as tightly as he possibly could – bruising was not important anymore – he sprinted the last twenty meters to the building and threw himself against the doors.

The doors fell open with an ear-splitting crash and Spock stumbled into the dim corridor.

"Nurse Chapel!" he yelled. He could feel his vocal chords straining, dried and hoarse from the wind that now screamed in the open doors, dusting the ground with snow. He staggered forward a few steps. "Nurse Chapel!" he called again.

A sound of many people running, then everyone spilled into the corridor at once.

"Holy shit." The curse sounded almost funny in Chekov's young voice, and Spock felt an odd gasping laugh pass through his lips.

Nurse Chapel approached them with agonizing calm.

"Someone go prepare a cot," she said slowly. Scotty, Sulu, and Chekov ran off down the hall towards the bedroom. Spock could hear the steady _drip, drip, drip_ of Jim's blood on the concrete floor. "Bring him to the bedroom, Spock. Nyota, I'll need your help." Then she turned around and followed the others towards the sleeping quarters. Spock followed, not relaxing his hold on Jim's body.

When they reached the sleeping quarters, Spock saw that all of the cots had been pushed to the walls, save one that had been dragged directly beneath the lamp in the middle of the room.

"Thank you, gentlemen," said Chapel. "Now get out."

Sulu, Scotty, and Chekov filed slowly past Spock and Kirk, their eyes afraid. Spock could taste their fear, like a rusted nail under his tongue.

"What happened to 'im?" Scotty asked. Spock did not, could not answer. The engineer seemed to understand. "Come on, lads," he said to Sulu and Chekov, "Let's go fix those doors before the storm gets any worse."

Spock listened to the sound of their footsteps as they moved off down the hall.

"Nyota, I need you to take this, and this, and get Spock out of here," Chapel said. "Clean him up while I take care of the Captain." She turned to Spock. "Lay him here," she instructed.

Spock laid Kirk gently on the cot in the center of the room.

"Thank you. Now you get out of here, too."

"Nurse," Spock said quickly, "I believe I should stay and assist you. The training I have had, combined with my Vulcan abilities should—"

"Shut up, Spock," Chapel snapped, dumping her entire medical kit at the foot of Jim's cot. Spock was surprised into silence. "You are far too," she laughed sarcastically, "_compromised_ by this situation to be involved. Now get out. That's a medical order."

Spock backed slowly out of the room, stopping just outside the door. Chapel crossed the room with quick strides and closed the door in Spock's face.

"Spock," Uhura said gently. "Spock you need to come with me." She slid her hand into the crook of Spock's elbow and tugged. "Spock, he'll be okay."

"You cannot know that," Spock said, his voice not above a hiss.

"Spock, look at me," Uhura said softly. Spock turned to the Human woman at his side. Uhura's eyebrows were drawn together in a concerned line above her deep brown eyes, but unlike the male members of the crew, there was no fear in her expression. She placed a gentle hand on the side of Spock's face. "Christine is a brilliant and talented nurse. If anyone can heal him, she can."

Spock looked away.

"He _will_ be okay," Nyota said, stepping around him to look into his face. "Trust me."

Spock nodded once, and allowed himself to be led away from the door. He had never believed in a deity of any sort, but the thought crossed his mind anyway – God willing, Jim would make it through the night.

* * *

**I get tired just _reading_ this chapter! Hope you enjoyed.**

**It's a bit of a short chapter, but was so damn exhausting that I couldn't bear to stretch it any longer.**

**Half-naked Spock carrying a half-dead Kirk through a blizzard wants you to review! :P**


	7. To Play The Watchman

**A/N: I just suck, okay? I literally fail at life. Because it has now been a year, and this story was only meant to be around ten chapters anyway, and I'm STILL not done! I do sincerely apologize for that. HOWEVER! I have a brilliant new idea for a Sherlock AU, university-verse (or uni-verse if you want to be punny). BUT I won't work on that until this is finished. Hopefully that…helps. Okay, shutting up now!**

* * *

**THE EXPENSE OF SPIRIT**

**Chapter 6: **

**To Play the Watchman Ever For Thy Sake**

* * *

At last, the outpost was silent. The storm raging outside had made it difficult for Sulu, Chekov, and Scotty to repair the outpost doors, but Scott's engineering prowess was more than a match for a blizzard. The three of them were presently grouped around the newly-installed replicator, enjoying the spoils of their hard work earlier that day.

As Uhura cleaned the myriad of tiny wounds on Spock's face, arms, and back, she updated him on what had transpired that day. Knowing, although he wouldn't admit it, he needed something to distract him from Kirk, she kept up a steady stream of light-hearted chatter.

"The guys all slept late, of course," she said, "and we saw no reason to wake them because there was nothing for them to do." She ran a cloth across Spock's skin then rinsed it in the bowl of hot water she had replicated. Nurse Chapel had kept all her fancy medications to heal Kirk, but Uhura didn't mind and Spock's wounds were superficial at most.

"Christine and I woke up early and just hung out, so we were awake when the supply shuttle arrived," Uhura continued. "It was about midday. We woke the guys, and of course the first thing they wanted to do was install the replicator so they could eat…"

Spock was only halfway listening to her. Now that he was away from Kirk – could no longer hear the Human's moans, could no longer smell the metallic tang of his blood – Spock became painfully aware of how much Kirk's injury had compromised him. Nurse Chapel had brought it to his attention, and he was grateful to her. As Uhura cleaned the blood from his skin, he retreaded into himself and repeated the calming mantras he had learnt as a child. The words melted together in his mind, swirling around his skull in a haunting, but peaceful, melody. Uhura finished cleaning his wounds and walked away. He did not look to see where she went. When she returned with a blanket and wrapped it around his shoulders, he offered a quiet, "Thank you, Nyota." He knew she had been in the bedroom where Kirk lay, but did not ask any questions, and she volunteered no information.

Spock closed his eyes. Nyota stood anxiously by his side for a few moments, but when he made no move to speak to her, she drifted away the join the group at the replicator. Their voices faded to white noise in the background as Spock retreated farther into himself, rebuilding the mental shields that had been so brutally abused and attacked throughout the course of the day.

After a time – for once Spock neither knew nor cared how long – the Humans retreated to another part of the outpost. In the silence, Spock re-opened his eyes.

Someone, most likely Nyota, had placed a cup of tea on a table near his elbow. Spock was proud of the lack of response he had to this simple action. He knew his Human half should feel guilty, because of his growing lack of feeling for Nyota, but did not. This was to be desired. If Spock had achieved the necessary state of emotional clarity through meditation, he would be able to oversee the repairs of the outpost as well as Kirk's recovery without any unnecessary emotional interference. Spock heard footsteps approaching and stood, drawing the blanket closer around himself.

"Mr. Spock?" Nurse Chapel said quietly from behind him.

"Yes, Nurse Chapel?" Spock said, turning.

"Oh, good, you're up. Er…well… Nyota said not to disturb you if you were…busy. She said you were meditating."

"I was," said Spock. "I am obviously finished now, however. I thank you for your consideration in not disturbing me."

"Of course," Chapel said, businesslike once more. "I need to check out your wounds. I have some of this—" she held up a small white canister "—left after healing Kirk, so I figured I'd patch you up. Go ahead and sit." She nodded towards the chair Spock had just vacated.

Spock sat obediently, allowing the blanket to fall from his wounded shoulder. He couldn't help but notice a faint blush creeping up Nurse Chapel's cheeks as the fabric slid off his skin, but her manner remained wholly professional. She opened the canister and sprayed a dusting of fine white powder over Spock's skin. She evened it out with her fingertips, and Spock could feel her trembling. He said nothing, focusing instead on closing his mind to the sensation.

"This is a skin-repairing-nano powder," Chapel explained. "I can't close up the wounds because they're all so small, but these nanos will help. You'll need to keep a shirt off until about tomorrow morning so you don't disturb them, but you should be fine after that point."

"Thank you, Nurse Chapel," Spock said. "Do you know where everyone is?"

"They went to bed. I had Mr. Scott and Mr. Sulu move all the cots into Nyota's and my room, except the Captain's, so he won't be disturbed." Spock felt his eyebrows contract downward, and the nurse noticed before he could erase the frown from his face. "Don't worry. I put a chair and some blankets in the Captain's room for you." Something between a smile and a smirk crossed Chapel's face, and Spock saw it out of the corner of his eye. He turned to face her.

"What do you mean?" he asked.

"I've been working in Doctor McCoy's medical bay as long as Kirk has been on the _Enterprise._ Did you really think I hadn't noticed how you go all 'mother bear' when he's hurt?"

"An interesting comparison," Spock said, raising one eyebrow, "though I admit I do understand it." Nurse Chapel laughed, but Spock did not find the situation humorous. He had been so sure that the Humans would not discover his feelings for the Captain, but in the case of Nurse Chapel he may have misjudged.

"Spock," Nurse Chapel said slowly, "Please know that I'll hold anything you say in the strictest confidence. Doctor-patient confidentiality and all that."

"I am grateful for your willingness to help me," Spock said. "However, I only have two questions at present—"

Nurse Chapel held up a hand. "Let me guess. You want to make sure no one else knows about your … feelings, and you want to know how _I _know anything in the first place."

Spock blinked. "…Yes," he said eventually.

"I lived on Vulcan for a few years growing up. My dad was a research engineer, and he was working with the Vulcan Science Academy. No one was supposed to know he was there, so we had to pretend he was a mechanic or something." Chapel shrugged. Spock stared at her. "Vulcans aren't emotionless, you're just a lot more subtle. A quirk of an eyebrow, the way you turn your face, or just the way you move your eyes, the way you look at things.

"Humans don't notice. We're all so _expressive_, we don't just talk with words, we talk with our whole body. It's all in the eyes and the expression, and the hands, and the inflection. We're used to seeing that, so when someone, like you," she nodded at Spock, "doesn't do those things, we assume they're unfeeling.

"So no, no one else has noticed. I just know what to look for."

"Fascinating," was all Spock could think of to say.

Chapel smiled. "Kirk is fine, by the way. He's sleeping. He woke up once while I was cleaning the wound and said, 'Drakoulias bite, thank God you're not Bones,' then went out again."

Spock stood automatically and began to make his way to Kirk's room. Nurse Chapel matched his pace with surprising ease.

"He'll need to rest for a few days," she said as they walked. "I know it will drive him crazy, not being able to work, but he needs to keep his circulation down while his kidneys filter the poison out of his blood. It shouldn't take more than a few days, and now that we have a replicator it will be easy to keep him hydrated." They stopped outside the door to Kirk's room.

"Thank you, Nurse Chapel," Spock said.

"Of course, Mr. Spock," Chapel said, smirking. "Just remember, keep his heart rate down." Spock narrowed his eyes at her, hardly daring to think what she was insinuating. He nodded once and went into Kirk's room, shutting the door behind him.

The room was unusually warm. Someone had turned the heating on in the washroom and left the door open to allow the warmth into the sleeping quarters. Spock peered into the washroom. The opposite door that led into the other bedroom was closed. Of course, with five Humans and an alien in one small room, the others would have little need for external heating sources. The room was warm, even to Spock, and he folded up the blanket he'd been carrying, placing it neatly in the closet before turning to face the rest of the room.

Jim lay on his back on the cot in the center of the room. One leg of his pants had been cut away, exposing the clean white bandage below. The skin of Jim's thigh was flushed a warm pink, and as Spock drew near he could feel the feverish warmth that the Human's body radiated into the air. Spock sank into the chair next to the cot. Jim stirred faintly. Spock concentrated on keeping his mental barriers intact and his mind clear.

Then Jim's blue eyes opened at he spoke.

"Spock?" he whispered weakly. His eyes roamed, unfocused, around the room before settling on Spock's face. He blinked a few times, his vision focused on a place in midair between him and Spock. Instinctively, Spock leaned forward until Jim's gaze rested upon him. "Spock," Jim said with a tired smile.

"I am here, Jim," Spock said softly. Jim's smile broadened for a moment, only to be replaced by a frown of confusion.

"What happened?" Jim tried to sit up, but Spock put a hand on his shoulder. Jim's skin was still too warm.

"Do not rise," Spock said. "Nurse Chapel has instructed that you keep as still as possible."

"I'd be fine with that," Jim said, relaxing back onto his cot, "if I knew _why_."

"Do you not remember?"

"No…?"

"Nurse Chapel told me that you woke up while she was working on you, and you told her what had happened."

"I don't remember anything."

"You have received a poisonous bite, " Spock said, finally releasing Jim's shoulder from his grasp. The warmth of his skin made Spock's fingertips tingle, and he brushed them absently on the fabric of his pants to try and erase the sensation. It did little to help.

"I… What?" Jim said.

"You and I were returning to the outpost from your … crater, when you found a young drakoulias pup. It bit you," Spock said.

"…Oh," Jim said, looking ashamed. "Well that's… stupid."

"I _did_ try to warn you," Spock said lightly.

"I'm sure you did," said Jim. He rolled his head sideways on the pillow to look at Spock. Spock watched Jim's eyes roam across his body, lingering on the faint pockmarks and scrapes still visible on his shoulder. "I remember you carrying me. In a blizzard," he said at length.

"Yes," said Spock. "I knew that it was imperative your heart rate stay low, so I held you and ran to the outpost."

"That's right," Jim said, his eyes unfocused again. Their usual bright blue was clouded and muddled by the inflamed red blood vessels reacting to the poison. Spock felt a wave of protective instinct break over him, and leaned still closer over Jim's prone form. The Human's breathing was quick and shallow.

"Jim," Spock said, "you must try and sleep. Your body cannot heal itself if you are too focused on staying awake."

Jim mumbled something about Doctor McCoy, and sounded rather angry about it, but closed his eyes anyway. Spock stood up and switched off the light above Jim's bed. He could tell by the deeper breaths Jim was taking that he was already asleep. Spock's expression softened as he sat back down, his eyes raking over Jim's body for any signs of discomfort. The Human was shivering, even though the heat from his fever was warming the air around his body and the washroom door was open. Spock stood again to retrieve his blanket from the closet and spread it over Jim. Jim sighed in comfort as the blanket settled onto him.

"Spock…" he whispered.

"Yes?"

"Blanket smells like you."

Spock had absolutely no idea how to respond to that particular statement, so he said nothing. Neither did Jim, who was apparently fast asleep again. Spock made himself comfortable in his chair, settling down to watch over Jim as he slept.

* * *

Nyota awoke early the next morning, before everyone else, and took her suitcase with her into the washroom. The warm, humid air made her shiver. Through the opposite door she could see Spock standing, well, sitting, guard over Kirk's bedside, and her stomach lurched unpleasantly. Quietly, she approached their room.

"Spock," she said, keeping her voice low. Spock blinked once, but did not remove his eyes from the sleeping Human on the bed. "Spock," she said again.

"Good morning, Nyota," Spock said softly. Nyota tried to ignore the way her stomach soared when he said her name, but failed. He still wasn't looking at her.

"I was going to take a shower, do you mind if I close the door?"

"Not at all," Spock said. "It is sufficiently warm in this room for the time being."

"How's your shoulder?" she asked tentatively.

"Healing, thanks to the efforts of Nurse Chapel and yourself," Spock said. There was no emotion in his voice.

"Good," Nyota said. She turned silently around and went into the washroom, closing the door behind her as quietly as she could.

She stripped out of her pyjamas and turned on the shower. The hot water quickly steamed up the room and made it almost impossible to see the opposite wall. She fished in her suitcase for some shampoo and stepped beneath the warm stream of water. The heat eased the tension from her muscles and she couldn't suppress the sigh that escaped her lips. She froze, wondering if Spock had heard her, but then decided she didn't care. He probably hadn't, anyway, being so completely absorbed in the Captain's welfare.

Nyota slammed her shampoo bottle angrily into her palm, and a dollop of shampoo splatted out onto the wall of the shower. She swiped it off with her fingers and shoved her soapy hands through her hair. Of _course_ Spock was always worried about Kirk's well-being. Since Nero… Not for the first time, Nyota cursed Nero in every language she knew, which was many. Where would se be, what would have become of her life if that Romulan hadn't interfered?

She thought she knew exactly where she would be. She would have graduated from Starfleet Academy with honors, and then - No, that was it. Nothing else would have changed. She would still be on the enterprise, still be with Spock, still be endlessly… infuriated with Jim Kirk. So Nero hadn't changed her life at all, really.

But his arrival _had_ stopped Kirk's suspension (expulsion was too much to hope), and brought Kirk aboard the _Enterprise_, and made him Captain. And blaming Kirk for any of this wasn't reasonable at all, she knew. He'd basically been thrown into trying to save the world, Nyota couldn't hold that against him. But in dark creeping moments of doubt, when she had to blame _somebody_ or she would snap, Nyota blamed Nero.

Nyota rinsed the bubbles form her hair, combing through it with her fingernails. She shut the hot water off, knowing it would be best to leave some for the others, and stood shivering for a moment before she figured out how to operate the antiquated sonic dryer. The waves of sound were too high for her ears, but she could feel a funny rippling pressure across her skin. Her hair flopped around s though it were alive, and she could feel it untangling as it dried. Moments later, she stepped out of the shower and began do dress. She opted for her uniform, with her red cadet sweater underneath and leggings instead of tights. Hopefully they'd get around to updating the heating system today. Once she was dressed, Nyota dropped off her bag in her room and crossed back over to see Spock.

The Vulcan was still sitting by Kirk's bedside, looking as though he had not so much as blinked in the last fifteen minutes.

"I'm going to get some coffee," Nyota said quietly as she approached the pair. "Would you like me to bring anything for you, Spock?"

Finally, he turned to look at her. "If you could bring me a cup of tea, I would be grateful," Spock said.

"Don't you ever _eat_ anything?" Nyota asked, crossing to the door.

"My metabolism—" Spock began.

"Yes, Spock, I know. You're _Vulcan._" With that, Nyota left the room, closing the door behind her.

A miniscule frown crossed Spock's face. He had always known Nyota was perceptive, for a Human. He would have to be more careful, lest she suspect… Spock wasn't starving himself, per se, but he was deliberately not eating. Hunger kept his body occupied, kept his mind sharp. This, especially now, was crucial. Were he to consume food, his faculties would slow down, both physical and mental. Such a lapse in control was not something Spock was willing to risk.

Jim stirred and Spock looked down at him. The Human's eyes opened and he smiled when he saw Spock sitting beside him.

"Morning, sunshine," he said.

"Good morning, Jim," Spock replied. "I trust you had a restful night?"

"Yup," Jim said, stretching. His stomach gave a loud rumble. "Hungry, though."

Spock stood up at once. "What would you like to eat? I will go replicate some breakfast for you."

"Oh, Spock, you don't have to-"

"Yes," said Spock, "I do. You must not get up, and the rest of the crew are still sleeping."

Jim sighed. "Fine. Could you get me, I dunno, some eggs? An omelet or something?"

Spock nodded once and left the room. Nyota was just walking away from the replicator when he arrived.

"Oh, so you _do_ eat," she said with a smile. "Why didn't you…?" She trailed off, realizing that Spock hadn't even acknowledged her presence. Kirk was awake, then. The breakfast was for him. She cleared her throat. "Do I need to wake the crew?" she asked.

"Yes. Have them assemble in the Captain's quarters in thirty minutes," Spock said, paying more attention to the replicator cards than to her. Nyota walked quickly away, still holding Spock's tea as well as her own coffee. As she headed back toward the bedrooms, she noticed the cup of tea she had prepared for Spock the night before, still completely full, sitting near the chair he had been using.

A few minutes later, Spock returned to Kirk's room, carrying the Captain's requested breakfast on a tray. Jim was half-sitting, leaning back on a few pillows and his folded up blanket.

"Your breakfast, Captain," Spock said, setting the tray gently down on Kirk's lap.

"Thanks, Spock!" Kirk said, picking up his fork. "You not gonna eat anything?"

Spock shook his head. "Nyota is bringing me a cup of tea."

"Okay then," Kirk said, spearing a bit of egg on his fork. "I take it the supplies arrived?"

"Indeed," said Spock. "The crew installed the replicator while we were gone yesterday."

"Well, they've certainly got their priorities," said Kirk.

Spock didn't smile at this. At least, he didn't think he had, but Kirk's grin said otherwise. Spock ignored him and said, "I have instructed the crew to assemble here in twenty-two minutes. Is there anything you require before they arrive?"

"Nope," said Jim with his mouth full. He ran his eyes over Spock and swallowed loudly. "You might want to put a shirt on, though."

Spock looked down at himself and raised his eyebrows. Then he stood up and went to the closet where he had stowed his bag of clothes. He fished out his blue uniform shirt and pulled it over his head. He turned back around to see Kirk looking slightly uncomfortable.

"Captain? Is everything alright?"

"Yeah… Actually, Spock, there's something else I need."

"Yes?"

"Can you help me… um… Can you help me get into the bathroom?" Kirk mumbled, looking down at his food.

"Certainly," Spock said, though he could feel his mental shields straining against the sudden onslaught of emotion coursing through his veins. He crossed the room and moved the breakfast tray to the chair, then helped Kirk stand up. He half-carried the Human across the room, carefully and slowly, and deposited him near the toilet. "Do you require any additional assistance, Captain?" he asked, not looking at Kirk.

"Not for the moment. Go out, I'll call you when I need you."

Spock could not get out of the washroom fast enough. He stood still and concentrated on not hearing anything, until the toilet flushed and Kirk said, "Okay, come get me." He went back in and carried Kirk back to his bed. He set him down gently and pulled the blanket back up.

"Would you like to finish your breakfast?" he asked.

"Nah, I'm not feeling so hot," Kirk said.

"Actually, Captain, your fever is higher this morning than it was last night. You should at least stay hydrated."

"Yeah, water is good."

There was a knock at the door. Kirk straightened up as best he could. "Enter."

The door opened and the crew came in. Nurse Chapel swept immediately to Kirk's bedside, and everybody else hovered nervously around the fringes of the room. Uhura stood in the doorway.

"Spock, could I speak to you for a second?" she asked. Spock nodded and followed her out of the room. She went into the next bedroom, and he followed. When he was in, she closed the door and turned to face him. Spock couldn't help but notice a hardness in her eyes that wasn't strong enough to mask the apprehension she clearly felt. "I need to say something and I need you to listen and not interrupt me, okay?"

Spock nodded wordlessly.

"This," Nyota gestured between the two of them, "isn't working right now. Now, I'm not saying I want to break up with you. Because I don't. But…" she drew a shuddering breath, trying not to cry, "with all the stress of everything going on… Sirius III… and Kirk… I feel like dealing with this relationship is just too much. Do you understand what I'm trying to say?"

Spock stood perfectly still and stared into Nyota's eyes. Here was the way out for which he had desperately been searching. Did he dare take it?

"Yes, I understand." He paused. "I believe the colloquial term is 'taking a break.' Am I right?"

Nyota gave a funny breathless laugh. "Yeah, that's the term. Are you…okay?"

Jim called from the other room. "Spock? Uhura? You coming?"

"Yes," said Spock, half turning toward the sound of Jim's voice. "I am fine."

"But you know this means I want to stay with you," Uhura said. "I still love you."

"I know."

* * *

**END CHAPTER SIX**

* * *

**You know what? I'm tired and I'm going to go to bed now, so I'm just going to leave it at that. Goodnight everybody. This hasn't been looked over yet. Please let me know if there are any weird random errors and I will fix them tomorrow! I love you all! *mwah***


	8. Love Is As A Fever

**A/N: I'm trying, I really am! I don't want to give up on this story because I really DO like it, it's just hard to focus on Kirk and Spock when Sherlock and John are hanging out in the dark secret corners of my mind, touching each other and looking at me with mocking smiles… Okay, that is NOT helping! Focus, MadameAngel, focus… …focus…**

* * *

**THE EXPENSE OF SPIRIT**

**Chapter 7: **

**My Love Is As A Fever**

* * *

Spock opened his eyes, staring sharply around the room, trying not to move. If anyone had heard… But no one seemed to have woken up. Even Kirk was still sleeping peacefully on his cot, covered in a blanket. Spock took a few deep breaths, listening to the impossibly fast beating of his heart. The dream he had been having bubbled sluggishly in the back of his mind, and he scolded himself for falling asleep. Kirk's health had been improving rapidly for the last several days, but one never knew with Humans, Spock rationalized. Kirk could be fine one minute and in excruciating pain the next as the Drakoulias poison continued to filter from his system. Spock glanced at Kirk again to make sure he wasn't in any pain. The Human was stretched out on his back, and very deeply asleep, judging by his slight snores.

At the sound of Kirk's breathing, the dream in the back of Spock's mind boiled over.

_Jim's mouth against his, hot and insistent … their bodies aligned, skin on skin, flushed and sweating … Jim's face contorted in near agony as he uttered Spock's name … the very precise feeling of Jim's individual fingertips against Spock's flesh, hard enough to bruise … Jim's tongue _everywhere_ … a pleasure so intense it ripped Spock out of his dream completely…_

And then he felt it, and couldn't keep from shifting uncomfortably in his chair. The sticky warmth spreading steadily from the area of his groin made his skin crawl with disgust.

Spock made his way over to the closet to get his bag of clothes, then shuffled stiffly into the bathroom. He locked both doors carefully, grateful that everyone else was still asleep. Without looking at himself, Spock peeled off his soiled trousers, rolling them carefully into a ball. He stripped out of the rest of his clothes quickly and turned on the shower. The water smelled like the snow outside.

Spock stepped gratefully under the warm stream, allowing the water to rinse every trace of semen from his skin. With his eyes closed, he scrubbed himself clean, wincing at the feel of the stuff between his fingers. Nocturnal emissions were not unheard-of for Vulcans, because of the unregulated state of hormones before _pon farr_, but they were not the norm. Spock, as ever, seemed to be the glaring exception. Never mind that he used every hour Kirk was sleeping to meditate. The hours were wasted. He was fine during the meditation, but as soon as Kirk so much as shifted in his sleep, Spock's mental shields crumbled like so much stale cake.

Spock was out of ideas. He was thankful that the outpost on Delta Vega was finally complete and they would be leaving today for New Vulcan. Kirk was anxious to get working again – his work on Delta Vega had been taken care of by Scotty and Sulu, much to Kirk's disappointment.

Spock washed his hair quickly and efficiently and switched off the shower. The sonic drying system was too powerful for his sensitive Vulcan ears, but Spock was so accustomed to this that he carried a towel in his suitcase whenever he was on-planet. He stepped out of the humid shower and reached for his suitcase. He could hear the faint noises of someone stirring in one of the other rooms and hurried to dry and dress before any of the Humans requested access to the bathroom. For the first time in over a week, Spock dressed in his blue science uniform. The material was familiar and comfortable against his skin. Jim Kirk was not the only one looking forward to working. Spock knew that the work which awaited them on New Vulcan would afford him the distraction he so desperately craved. Yes, it would be good to have a mission again.

Spock picked up his bag – neatly packed of course – and unlocked both bathroom doors before heading back into the Captain's room. He had barely taken two steps into the room when Kirk sat up, the blanket he had used falling from his shoulders. Spock froze mid-step. Kirk was shirtless, something Spock had somehow not noticed until just now. Kirk smiled sleepily.

"Morning, Spock," he said with a yawn.

Spock nodded, unable to speak. Kirk's skin was flushed a warm, inviting, Human pink, and Spock felt goose bumps spring up along the back of his neck at the sight, and the feelings it stirred within him. It was then that Kirk swung his legs down off the bed and stood up. Spock looked away as quickly as he could, but was not able to unsee what he had seen. Kirk, evidently, had been sleeping in nothing but a simple pair of boxer briefs. _Tight_ boxer briefs. His lean, muscled legs showed nearly no sign of his recent injury, save for a faint puckered scar above his left knee. Spock held very still as Kirk crossed the room, coming almost unbearably close, and Spock found himself holding his breath.

Kirk laid a gentle hand on Spock's shoulder. "You alright?"

Spock swallowed. "Yes, Captain, I am well."

"Good. I'm going to have a shower. Make sure the crew is prepared to leave when the cruiser arrives."

"Yes, sir," Spock said stiffly.

"Relax, Spock," Kirk said. "We'll be to New Vulcan by dinner time."

Spock looked over at Kirk at last, unable to keep the almost-smile from tugging at the corners of his mouth.

"I…look forward to it, Captain," he said.

Kirk laughed softly, then brushed past Spock and went into the bathroom, closing the door behind him.

Spock didn't exactly collapse, but it was a close call. He crossed the room and dropped heavily into his chair, the breath he had been holding going out of him in a _woosh_. He would have to be more careful in the future… Jim's unmade bed drew Spock's eye, and last night's dream began to simmer again in the back of his mind.

_Jim's body aligned with his … hot Human breath on his face … delicious wet heat against his –_

Spock stood up, his chair toppling over backwards behind him. He needed to get out, he needed to _do_ something, needed to get the smell of Jim out of his nostrils. Before he could think, Spock strode from the room, the door banging wildly behind him. He went out into the main room of the outpost, heading for the replicator without knowing why. He stopped in front of the machine and stared at it for a moment. His blood was still singing with adrenaline and Jim's scent and Spock couldn't focus on anything else. His fingertips ghosted over the card registry on the replicator without knowing what he was looking for, until something caught his eye.

_Coffee_.

Yes, Humans used coffee to help wake up in the morning, Spock knew that much. He selected the memory card for coffee and slid it into the reader. He replicated six cups of coffee and carried the tray back to the sleeping quarters.

Jim was still in the bathroom (Spock refused to think about the Human actually _showering_), but Spock left a cup of coffee on the arm of his chair and then went down the hall to wake the other Humans.

He knocked quietly on the door and was rewarded with an equally quiet "Come in" from Nurse Chapel. Spock went in, carefully balancing the tray in one hand while he opened the door with the other.

"Good morning," he said quietly. Only Nurse Chapel was awake. She was sitting on the edge of her cot and combing her hair.

"Morning, Mr. Spock," she said, at normal volume. "Go ahead and talk, they need to wake up anyway."

Spock nodded. "I made coffee." He set the tray down on a small table that Uhura had unearthed somewhere. Chekov woke up then, peering around with sleepy eyes. Spock handed him a cup of coffee. "Good morning, Mr. Chekov," he said.

"Vhat time is it?" Chekov asked.

"Half-past seven in the morning," said Spock. "Please wake the rest of the crew and make ready to depart when the ship arrives. I estimate you have little over an hour."

"Yes, sir," said Chekov. He looked down at Sulu who was sleeping beside him and nudged him awake. Spock nodded once and left the room to gather his own things.

Spock paused in the hallway to listen before going back into his own room. The shower had stopped. Spock went in, trying not to seem too cautious. Kirk was nowhere to be seen. Spock was bent over, about to pick up his bag from where he had dropped it earlier, when he saw something that made his mind shutter to a halt: Kirk's own bag, with his command uniform clearly visible inside, sitting innocently at the foot of the cot. Which meant that Kirk, having just finished his shower, was going to find himself uniform-less and –

The bathroom door opened.

Spock froze, still bent over, one hand on his bag of clothes. The steamy air swirled out from the bathroom, carrying Jim's scent on the moist droplets. Spock's tongue felt stuck to the roof of his mouth. Slowly, he straightened up, deliberately facing away from the bathroom door. Jim coughed, and the sound echoed in Spock's ears.

"Hey, uh, Spock?" Jim said.

"Yes, Captain?" said Spock to the wall.

"Could you pass me my…clothes?"

"…Certainly."

Spock bent back down to pick up Jim's bag. Jim coughed again. Spock stood up and walked backwards across the room to hand the bag to Jim. Spock thought he had almost reached the Human when he came into sudden contact with something solid and very warm. Then Jim, Spock, and the bag of clothes fell to the floor in a confused heap of arms, legs, and fabric.

Spock leapt up as fast as he could, but not even warp speed would have been fast enough. He had felt…everything. Every line of Jim's body against his. Without a word or a backward glance, Spock left the room.

He did not stop at the replicator this time, but went all the way outside until he was knee-deep in snow. He stood there for a few minutes, fingernails carving emerald half-moons into his palms, willing his heart rate to slow and stop the southward flow of blood. But Jim's body had been so warm against his, better even than Spock had dreamt, and he felt himself growing hard despite the freezing air. He curled his hands tighter, digging his fingernails painfully into his palms, and stared out across the snow.

Forcing his thoughts away from Jim('s naked body), Spock focused instead on the one person who held the answers, the only ray of hope in the darkness. At last, after days of waiting, they were going to New Vulcan. Since he had explored the cave with Kirk, since he had tasted the first Spock's memories, Spock had been longing for a glimpse into the older Vulcan's mind. Sure these…feelings, these desires were not limited to this reality alone. The first Spock must know at least _something_ about how to deal with this problem, even if he hadn't encountered it himself. He would have valuable insight into the minds of both Jim Kirks, having known the one for years and having mind-melded with the other. Spock focused on this, compiling a list of questions with various follow-ups for the conversation he would have with the first Spock.

Cautiously, Spock uncurled his fists and looked at his palms. He was going to have to either trim his fingernails impossibly short or find another way to calm his emotions. His fingertips were stained green with his own blood, and the fingernail marks across his palms were unlikely to fade soon. He examined them with a curious detachment, then bent down and scrubbed off the blood in the snow at his feet.

Spock was about to turn and go back inside the outpost when he noticed the shimmer of a humanoid figure in transport. He waited, his hands clasped behind his back. The heat of arousal had finally faded, giving way to a dull ache in his palms. He kept his fists curled to hide them.

The figure finished materializing. To Spock's surprise, he was Vulcan. He raised his hand instinctively in the _ta'al_ greeting, and the stranger mirrored him.

"You are Spock," the other Vulcan said. It was not a question. Spock nodded once in response. "I am T'seng," the Vulcan said. "I have come to collect you and your crew for transport to New Vulcan."

"Yes," said Spock, "I will go inform them. Come." He turned around and walked quickly into the squat, grey building.

The crew had assembled in the main room. Spock's eyes swept over them, not really seeing. Kirk was coming towards him. Spock turned cold Vulcan eyes on the approaching Human. Kirk's cheeks were flushed, something Spock chose to ignore.

"Spock, here's your…stuff…" Kirk trailed off as he saw T'seng come up behind Spock. Kirk's eyes flitted between the two Vulcans, and he straightened visibly, understanding in an instant the level of decorum he must present. "Your things, Mr. Spock," he said, holding the small suitcase out at arm's length. Spock took it, carefully placing his hand so as to not touch Kirk's skin.

"Thank you, Captain." Spock indicated T'seng. "This is T'seng. His crew are ready to beam us aboard."

"Of course," said Kirk. He turned back to the crew. "Well, let's get moving. No sense in hanging around here any longer," he said. They filed out past Spock at T'seng, all except Scott, who was saying goodbye to Keenser. When a moment had passed, Spock approached the pair.

"Mr. Scott. It is time to leave."

"O' course, Mr. Spock." Scott picked up his stuff and hurried out, giving a last wave to the small alien. Spock and T'seng followed.

Sulu, Scott, Chekov, Uhura, and Nurse Chapel stood in a circle, ready to transport. Kirk stood off to one side. T'seng pulled a communicator from some pocket of his robes.

"This is T'seng. Five Humans stand ready for transport."

"Energize," said a voice from the communicator. The five Humans disappeared in a swirl of blue-white energy and the three remaining humanoids arranged themselves to be beamed aboard.

"Two Vulcans and one Human to beam up," said T'seng into his communicator.

Spock managed one last sweeping glance of the desolate landscape before he was pulled into nothingness. Then a pristine white transporter room materialized before his gaze. The Vulcan ship's captain stood in the center of the room, the _Enterprise_ crew lined one wall. The Vulcan captain stepped forward.

"I am Sorkal," he said, raising the _ta'al_, "Captain of this ship, the _Fakovau_." Kirk copied the _ta'al_ flawlessly, stepping forward.

"I am James Kirk, captain of the _USS Enterprise_. This is Mr. Spock, my first officer, and my main bridge crew." He indicated the Humans standing by the wall.

Sorkal didn't blink. "We have prepared a room for your crew and yourself. The journey to New Vulcan will take eight Earth hours. T'seng will direct you to the room we have set aside."

Jim nodded to his crew to follow the Vulcan out of the transporter bay, and hung back to bring up the rear. Spock, who was also behind the group, debated quickening his pace to avoid Jim, but such behavior was far too conspicuous. So Spock held his breath and kept his hands curled firmly around the handle of his bag as Jim approached.

"Spock," Jim said, then cleared his throat. _The Old Earth Greek letter pi is a mathematical constant that is the ratio… _"I'm…uh. Well, I wanted to apologize for…what happened, uh…today." _Three point one four one five nine two six five three five eight nine seven nine three two three eight four six two six…_ Jim was silent, clearly waiting for Spock to respond.

"It is of no importance to me, Captain," Spock said. _Four three three eight three two seven nine five zero _fingernails _two eight eight four one nine seven one…_ "Please refrain from mentioning the incident in the future."

"Oh," said Jim. "Okay then." He moved away.

They had reached their designated room, a recreation room that had clearly never been used, and T'seng was ushering the Humans inside. Spock hesitated, letting Jim pass him.

Jim turned around curiously. Spock was speaking in Vulcan to T'seng. Jim cocked his head to one side, confused. He couldn't understand what they were saying, he wasn't familiar enough with the Vulcan language, but Spock's reluctance to enter the room was clear. Spock refused to look at him and remained entirely focused on the other Vulcan.

"_Ha_," said T'seng. Jim knew that word. _Yes._ Jim looked quickly at T'seng, then back to Spock, who was finally turning to acknowledge Jim's existence.

"Captain, T'seng has offered me the opportunity to work in the lab for the duration of the voyage," said Spock. "With your permission I would pass the time there instead of in this recreation room. I will return when we arrive to New Vulcan."

"And how long will that be?" Jim couldn't keep the irritation from his voice.

"Seven point nine three Earth hours," said T'seng evenly. "I will return for you at that time." The dismissal was clear. Jim nodded and retreated farther into the room.

"Well, I'll see you later then," he said to Spock, fighting the Spock-is-gone ache in the pit of his stomach. Spock nodded once, then followed the other Vulcan down the hall and out of sight. Jim turned around to see his crew watching him. "Well, we've got a few hours." Jim tried to keep his voice light. "Let's see what these Vulcans have in their 'recreation' room."

Sulu and Scotty headed straight for the simulator consoles, of course, and Jim was all set to have a good sulk in the corner when Chekov walked up, all curls and baby blues.

"Keptin, I challenge you to a duel!" he cried, pointing a dramatic finger at Kirk's chest. Kirk was startled right out of his bad mood.

"How dare you, young ruffian!" he shot back. "My honor is spotless and shall remain so!" Kirk had no idea where Chekov was going with this, but they had eight hours to kill.

"Is zat so?" Chekov said. "Wery well. Zen I challenge thee to a deul of chess!" He flung his arm around, pointing to a three-dimensional chessboard on a table in the center of the room.

"Ah ha!" crowed Kirk. "You are certain to fail, for I have bested many opponents older and wiser than you!"

Chekov merely grinned. "Older, yes, but not viser."

As Kirk followed the boy over to the game table, he saw Uhura and Nurse Chapel watching him. Suspecting that they were analyzing his reaction to Spock's absence, Kirk stuck his tongue out at them before sitting down to play.

* * *

Exactly seven hours and fifty-five minutes later, T'seng returned to escort Spock from the science labs. They returned in silence to the recreation room, having no need for small talk. The Humans in the recreation room were restless when they arrived.

"Finally," said Jim, pushing through the door almost before it was completely open. "Hey, Spock. Enjoy the lab?"

"In a manner of speaking," said Spock. It was the only honest answer he could give. He had utilized his time in the lab to calm and occupy his mind, and it had been remarkably effective. Working with other Vulcans was comfortable and easy. Almost as easy as – Spock stopped that thought in its tracks.

"You will be beamed aboard the _Enterprise_," said T'seng as they approached the transporter room. "The crew will stay on board the ship at night and work on the planet during the day." He turned to Kirk and Spock. "The ambassador has requested that the two of you beam down to the surface for the evening meal."

"We shall," said Spock. "Your hospitality towards us has been much appreciated."

"It is our duty as members of the Federation to care for one another," said T'seng.

Spock nodded calmly at him as the first party beamed over to the _Enterprise_. He and Kirk took their places on the transporter pad. T'seng raised the _ta'al_ and Kirk drew in a deep breath as the Vulcan ship disappeared around them.

They materialized on board the _Enterprise_ a split-second later. Kirk breathed a sigh of relief.

"It's good to be back," he said, grinning at Spock.

Spock raised an eyebrow. "You Humans and your emotional attachments to places," he said lightly.

"Come on," Kirk said, "you can't tell me you're not happy to be back. Or to be at New Vulcan. You're emotionally attached to this planet and you've never even been here before."

Spock pondered this while Kirk gave instructions to the crew over the intercom.

"Come on, Spock, let's drop off our stuff and beam down."

As they walked down the hall, Spock said, "I will not bother telling you that I have no emotional attachment to this planet—"

"Because you know I'm right," said Kirk.

"Because I know it will not change your mind," said Spock. "But it is logical that I should feel comfortable in an environment with which I am familiar."

Kirk laughed. "Keep telling yourself that, darlin'. But the only thing you've got any emotions about is that planet down there."

Spock stopped outside the door to his quarters and watched Kirk continue down the hall. He ran his eyes over the Captain's body as he walked away. Had it really been only that morning he had dreamt of Jim, and had - _Stop_, he chided himself. _Do not think on those things now. Soon, but not now_.

He met Jim back in the transporter room seven minutes later. Scotty stood ready to beam them down. Jim was practically glowing with excitement. Spock couldn't help giving him a quizzical look as he bounced up onto the transporter pad.

"Hurry up, Spock," he said, "the ambassador is waiting for us."

Spock was unsure as to why Jim was so eager to beam down, even more eager than he had been to beam onto the _Enterprise_. But Spock barely had time to ponder before they were materializing on the surface of New Vulcan.

The ambassador was indeed waiting for them.

"Spock!" Kirk crowed, bouncing over to stand near the old Vulcan. He turned back to face his First Officer. "You never read Captain Pike's dissertation, did you?"

Spock shook his head and refused to move. He could feel the instinct welling up within him, the instinct to fight, to claim the one who was rightfully his. He wished no harm against the older version of himself, quite the opposite in fact, but the expression on the other Vulcan's face as he looked at Jim… Spock hated him for it, and could not figure out exactly why. Was it because he was displaying such blatant emotion? Or was it because of the Human towards whom the emotion was directed?

The old Vulcan looked over at him for a moment, a sweeping, all-consuming glance. And Spock saw in his eyes that he knew and understood. The old Vulcan took two steps away from Jim's side and nodded to Spock without quite smiling. Then he turned back to Jim.

"Actually, Jim," –young Spock's eyes flashed— "I go by the name of Sabok now," the old Vulcan said. "However, you may still call me Spock if you wish."

Young Spock bit back the reflexive growl building in his throat as he approached the pair of them. He stood close to Jim's body and said, "You will, of course, understand if I refer to you as Ambassador Sabok."

"Of course," said the ambassador. His quick gaze took in the lack of distance between Kirk's and Spock's bodies, and he raised an eyebrow. Spock knew what he was thinking. The phrase "Well then" was clearly written in his eyes. Spock's gaze hardened as he looked at the old Vulcan, and the ambassador had the good sense to look slightly ashamed of himself. Kirk, of course, noticed none of this.

"I understand we were expected to join you for dinner," Spock said coolly.

"Yes," said the ambassador. "I would be honored if the two of you would spend your time on New Vulcan at my place of residence. I can have your clothes beamed down as well, if you wish." His eyes flicked back to Jim. He didn't seem to be able to help it, Spock thought.

"That would be awesome!" said Jim delightedly. "I'd love to stay at your place! Wouldn't that be cool, Spock?" He finally tore his gaze away from the old Vulcan to look at Spock.

"This is a Vulcan planet, Jim. Nothing is 'cool' here," Spock said with a delicate lift of his eyebrows. Jim laughed.

"Is that a yes, then?" he said.

"Yes, Jim." Spock glanced at his older self out of the corner of his eye. If he was to be completely honest, the main reason he was staying on-planet was because he did not entirely trust the old Spock. It was obvious now that he had had some sort of deep emotional connection to the Jim of the past, and those feelings had carried over onto _his_ Jim, the Jim of the present. It was imperative that Spock remain on-planet to try and find some resolution to his problem.

"Come," said the ambassador with a welcoming gesture. "I will show you to my home."

Kirk and Spock followed him obediently, both wrapped up in their own thoughts.

* * *

**End Chapter Seven**

* * *

**I think I'll leave it here for now. **

**Oh, btw, news! I'm officially on Tumblr. As MadameAngel of course. MadameAngel dot tumblr dot com. Come check me out! Much slash and sexiness to be found. **

**Please review? Ha, I feel like a lamesauce just for asking. But I love you all! *mwah***


	9. An Ever Fixed Mark

**A/N: Still trying really hard to not suck at this whole updating business. My fangirl brain is even more ADD than my real life brain. It switches fandoms about once a month, and I've been through about half a dozen fandom since I started writing this story and it's only getting harder because LOKI. And that's all I'm going to say about that. The show must go on.**

* * *

**THE EXPENSE OF SPIRIT**

**Chapter 8: **

**It Is An Ever-Fixed Mark**

* * *

Darkness had long fallen over the capital city of New Vulcan, but Spock remained kneeling in his borrowed room, completely awake. Meditating, almost praying, he was waiting for Kirk to finally fall asleep. Kirk was sleeping in the room next door to Spock's, the ambassador had seen to that, and Spock had been listening hard to find out if the Human was asleep yet.

Spock was conflicted. He wanted to rage against the old Vulcan for his blatant emotional attachment to Jim, but the old Vulcan clearly couldn't help himself. And he had never done anything to provoke young Spock's jealousy. In fact, the ambassador had been deliberately formal towards Jim, and obviously respectful of what he believed to be young Spock's … he hesitated to use the word "territory," but that was the way the ambassador had treated it. Spock knew the ambassador would be expecting an explanation, for that is exactly what he himself would expect in such a situation. So Spock had retreated to his room after dinner, and waited.

At last, there was silence from Kirk's room next door. This was the signal Spock had been waiting for. He unfolded himself from his position on the floor and went to the door. He opened it silently and walked down the hall, slowing only infinitesimally outside Kirk's bedroom door. Up a flight of stairs and along another corridor, Spock found the ambassador reading in a library. Spock knocked gently at the door before entering.

"Come," said the ambassador from within. Spock entered, looking with interest at the collection of books around him.

"How have you amassed such a collection in so short a time?" he asked the old Vulcan.

"I knew where to look," said the ambassador simply. "But I do not believe you have come to discuss my collection of literature."

"No," said Spock after a pause. The ambassador looked expectantly at him, motioning for him to take a seat at the table. Spock sat down, unsure how to begin.

"Might I suggest you begin at the beginning?" the ambassador said lightly. Spock looked sharply at him, more than a little perturbed that the ambassador could read his thoughts so readily. "Do not be alarmed," the ambassador said. "Of course I should know your face. It is my own, after all."

"Of course," said Spock. "I am simply… not accustomed to speaking of such things with another person."

"Do you freely think of these things in your own mind?"

"Yes, when it will not interfere or distract me from any work that needs to be done."

"Then, as you and I are the same person, you should not feel ashamed in discussing them with me," the ambassador said.

Spock shot him a sideways glance, watching him carefully.

"Jim and I…" Spock said slowly. The ambassador's eyebrows lifted almost imperceptibly. "Jim and I have had sexual intercourse."

The ambassador blinked once. "When?"

"Nine days ago," said Spock. "But Jim has not spoken of or made reference to the incident since it occurred. I-" Spock hated himself for pausing here, hated the weakness it displayed, but could not prevent it "—I suspect it may not mean to him what it does to me. You know him as well as I do, you know how promiscuous he is."

"That is where you are wrong," said the ambassador. "I knew the James Kirk of my time. This one is different. The circumstances of his life have changed him in ways that I am unfamiliar with. I do not, I never will, know him as well as you do."

Spock nodded his agreement. "You are right in this case," he said. "But you also know that the inherent qualities if a person do not change so easily. You know James Kirk, as a person, you know the kind of man he is and has the potential to become."

"That I do," the old Vulcan agreed. "But please, continue. What is it you wish me to know? Why have you sought me out?"

"I… do not know what to do. I cannot bring this matter before my father, I am sure you understand." The ambassador nodded. "Yours," Spock said, nodding at him, "is an opinion I trust and respect." The ambassador raised a questioning eyebrow. "Do not mistake my respect for arrogance. You are wiser than I am, you have seen much in your life, you have experienced a life with a James Kirk. This gives you valuable insight into my current… problem." Spock wasn't sure why, but he felt as though he _needed_ the ambassador to understand exactly what had happened between he and Jim, and exactly how he felt. He looked up. The ambassador was watching him closely.

"I am in love with Jim Kirk," Spock said quietly.

"I know," said the ambassador.

"But I am unsure what to do about it. Should I pursue a relationship with him? I do not know where such a path will lead."

"Nor do I," said the ambassador. "No one can truly know the future. But I do, as you have said, have valuable insight." The old Vulcan raised his hand towards Spock's face. "If I may?"

Spock leaned gratefully into the older Vulcan's hand, feeling his fingers align with perfect precision to the psi-points on Spock's face. The library around them disappeared as Spock sank into the mind of his older self. The space around him was very familiar, but also entirely alien. The pain was there, but was very carefully compartmentalized and pushed aside. The ambassador's voice echoed without sound in the space between their joined minds.

_I did not meet James Kirk as early in my years as you did._ Try as he might, the older Vulcan could not keep the hint of envy from his mind – his every thought was open and exposed to young Spock's view. _I had been the Science Officer on the _Enterprise _for eleven years, four months, and five days before Jim became Captain. Although I remember everything that happened me during those eleven years, those events lost their significance when Jim entered my life._

Briefly, Spock wondered if the ambassador knew how he sounded: like a lovesick Human teenager. A quiet laugh vibrated along the inside of Spock's skull.

_Yes, I know. I believe my self-discipline for strict logic has been waning in my old age. However, you know as well as I the depth with which Vulcan bonds run._

Were you bonded to Jim, then?

_I was not, although the level of affection I had for him was more than sufficient to form a bond, had I chosen that path. I did not realize until it was too late…the depth of my own feelings for him, let alone his feelings for me. Do you remember, Spock, when the young Vulcan children would bully us, and Sarek told us that he married Amanda because it was logical?_

Of course Spock remembered this. It was the moment that, until very recently, had defined him.

_You also know, I can see, that Sarek was not being entirely truthful._

No, Spock thought, he was not. Spock had learnt, at great cost, that Sarek had truly loved Amanda. He wished he could have known it while she still lived.

_You will understand, then why I grew to believe that it is impossible for a Vulcan to feel love. _

Yes, Spock understood. He had felt the same way for most of his life.

_That is why, when my feelings for Jim began to emerge, I did everything in my power to shut them off, to smite them at the source. I threw myself into work aboard the _Enterprise_, hoping to distract my mind and body from the yearning, the need for his presence. For a time, this worked._

A burning tongue of flame echoed across the chasm of time in the ambassador's mind, the burnt-out desire of a wasted _pon farr_.

_My first _pon farr_ came while I was serving under Jim on the _Enterprise_. He had promoted me to First Officer a year previous, and I was growing accustomed to, if not fond of, the influence that his Humanity had upon me. I had not yet realized that my feelings for him went beyond friendship, but I knew that what I did feel was stronger than it should be. When my Time came, I tried to hide it from him. I was ashamed, knowing with sudden perfect certainty that he was the one my body desired, he was the one with whom I was supposed to be bonded. He was my _t'hy'la. _But this desire was illogical. It was not possible for Jim and I to produce offspring, so I saw no purpose to my body's longing for his._

Spock felt the anguish, the need, the lust that he knew accompanied _pon farr_. He had yet to experience it for himself but such things were universally understood among Vulcans, and he pitied the ambassador for the pain of the _plak tow_ he had endured during his Time. How had he survived?

_The desire left my body when I thought I had killed Jim._

Spock felt flashes of heat from Vulcan's twin suns, felt the shuddering halt of Jim's heart beat against his body, felt the sudden chill of a blood fever broken, and his breath caught in his chest.

_I never experienced another _pon farr_ that I can remember. I am told my body experienced two _pon farr_ on Genesis, but my katra was separated from my physical form during this time and I have no memory of the experience._

How had the old Vulcan – Spock stopped himself before he thought "escaped" – suppressed the madness of _pon farr_ for the rest of his life? It was a feat nearly unheard of except for a very select few of the high priesthood.

_After the five-year mission of the _Enterprise_, I left Starfleet. I went to Gol to complete _kolinahr. _It was something I had desired since I was young, and I knew that I must complete it before the Time came upon me again._

Spock tasted the bitter regret in the ambassador's soul, and knew instantly that he himself could never undertake _kolinahr _now, knowing the pain it would cause him.

_I was taught during _kolinahr _how to suppress the physical desires of _pon farr_, and although I never completed my training I remembered what I had learned while in Gol and used it to my advantage._

But Spock could feel the guilt and the pain, the price that the ambassador had paid for this so-called Vulcan perfection.

_I had not expected to see Jim ever again. On the final morning of my _kolinahr _initiation, however, the priestess sensed – as did I, though I dared not admit it – that the answers I had sought there had not been found. She would not let me complete the ritual, and I felt my own desire waning as a result of the strong emotions stirred in me by the presence I had felt._

_My subsequent encounter with the entity known as V'Ger almost destroyed me. V'Ger had such knowledge and such power, I hungered after it as I had never hungered after knowledge before. During all my time at Gol I was never able to completely suppress my feelings for Jim, and I hoped that V'Ger would provide the clarity I sought. It did not, and it nearly killed me, for it sought in me the answers that I myself was seeking. V'Ger was alone in the universe, as was I. My encounter with it enabled me to see the value and uniqueness of my connection with Jim, even if it was not so deep as I had wished it to be. _

Spock felt the warmth curling along the back of his skull, felt the sense of completeness and love that had enveloped the ambassador during those moments with Jim after his encounter with V'Ger.

_Yes. I had learnt from V'Ger what I could never learn on Vulcan: love – truthfully, any feeling – was not to be shunned or feared. Without emotions, we are nothing but shells and a mask of logic. I could not learn this on Vulcan because no one there would teach it. But V'Ger knew, and V'Ger was searching for the one that would complete it. Luckily, my search did not need to be so long or complicated. I gave up on _kolinahr _then, content to stay with Jim and the _Enterprise_, even after she was retired and Jim took a job working for Starfleet elsewhere. _

But still, Spock pondered, the ambassador was alone. He had, despite his best efforts, lost Jim. Spock felt the mask of serenity slip from the old Vulcan's _katra_, saw the face that belonged to the sadness he had felt on Delta Vega, and felt the tears start in his eyes.

_I was a fool. I could not see._

The ambassador's thoughts lapsed into silence as his memory of the V'Ger incident unfolded in the space inside Spock's skull.

_I lay on a bed in the _Enterprise_ sickbay, half-alive. I could feel my skeleton straining with the effort of keeping itself intact, as though my entire body had been exhausted by the wealth of knowledge I had received from V'Ger. My eyeballs were sinking further into my skull, pressed down by the sheer weight of information. In vain I was searching through what V'Ger had given me, too stubborn to give up looking for the answers I craved. And somewhere in that vast expanse of colors, codes, and languages, I found one light-gold sentence of half-forgotten scripture: _

_It is not meet that man should be alone._

_It surprised me so much to learn this from a machine, to know that even this collection of circuits and memory banks understood what I could not. I laughed, and Jim rushed to my bedside. His eyes were on me as I smiled, and I tried to relate to him what I had learned from V'Ger. At last I knew that I was allowed to love him, to be with him, if he would have me. It was not that logic served to shut out emotion, but to enhance it, for without emotion there was no beauty or hope in the universe. V'Ger was longing for completeness, as was I – alone, we could not understand the value of love. But together… I took Jim's hand in my own._

"_This simple feeling is beyond V'Ger's comprension." Jim covered my hand with his, enveloping me in warmth, and I thought for a moment that he understood. V'Ger was asking the same questions as I: "Is this all that I am? Is there nothing more?" I had found that which would complete me, but yet lacked the courage to claim him as my own. I had always thought there would be time enough._

_When I learnt of his death…_

Spock felt the pain and stopped the ambassador before he could continue. He did not need to share this, Spock could understand perfectly without intruding into this private, quiet pain. He leaned back, out of reach of the old Vulcan's fingers, pulling himself carefully out of the mind meld.

"I am sorry," he whispered. "I did not mean to bring about the memory of such pain."

"Do not apologize," said the ambassador. "You asked for answers, and I was more than willing to give them."

They lapsed into silence and neither spoke for several long minutes.

"My opinion may be a bit biased," said the ambassador at last, "but I believe that yes, you should pursue a relationship with Jim."

Spock nodded wordlessly. It all seemed so simple now. He could see clearly how the time stream had striven to mend itself by putting himself and Jim into one another's paths, the two halves of the universe struggling to knit the fabric of time back together.

"I do believe," the ambassador said slowly, "there is one thing you must take care of first."

"Yes," said Spock, swallowing. "Nyota and I have been involved in a romantic relationship for three years, and I cannot…" he trailed off, unsure how to finish the thought.

"I know," said the ambassador. "I also know the strain this decision has put on you, Spock, in both body and mind. You should not delay much longer."

"I will not," Spock said, rising from his chair. "I must excuse myself: I have much to think on. Good evening, sir."

The ambassador's warm voice swirled around him as he exited the library. "Good night, Spock."

* * *

**END CHAPTER 8**

* * *

**You know what? I think I'll stop there. I'm graduating from university in 24 days, so I don't think I'll be able to update again before then…. But after that things should be easier! ("should" being the operative word..."**

**Pretty please to review, my darlings? I do love you. *mwah* **


	10. For Restful Death

**A/N: Just kill me. If you've managed to stick around for me to update this, congratulations and thank you. I'm basically just trudging through it at this point. I've been working on this story for almost 2 years and I really am just done with the whole thing. But I won't let myself not finish it, so I keep writing. Here goes.**

* * *

**THE EXPENSE OF SPIRIT**

**Chapter 9: **

**Tired, For Restful Death I Cry**

* * *

Spock knew what had to be done. All night he had meditated – the answer had not changed. Spock knew not sleeping tonight was unwise, it had been too long already, but he could not relax, not when the problem remained unsolved. Now with the sunrise came his resolution.

Spock had always been fascinated with Humans' glorification of the sunrise, but had never understood it himself. "Why celebrate that which has always occurred and always will?" was his argument. "It is not as though the sun has never risen before." But now as the first of Vulcan's suns prepared to rise, Spock felt the heaviness of his trials leave him and he knew what he must do.

He must be honest.

He must first terminate his relationship with Nyota. Acting as though he loved her when – compared with Jim – he felt nothing was the height of both dishonesty and disrespect. And when Jim asked why they had ended their relationship, as Human friends were wont to do, Spock would be unable to lie. He must confess his deepest secret to the one person he had sworn would never hear it. To do otherwise would be dishonest and illogical.

But there would be time for no such things today.

For the last week, Doctor McCoy had been overseeing the outfit of a new Vulcan hospital, along with what of the _Enterprise _crew he could muster. Never mind that they had just spent a week re-building the outpost on Delta Vega, Kirk wanted them all to assist the good doctor in his work. Spock was at once grateful and disappointed by this prospect: work would be a welcome distraction, but he did not want to procrastinate speaking with Nyota.

The day was a long one. Nyota spent the majority of her time, not overseeing the instillation of any communication systems as she had anticipated, but supervising the final touches on the ultrasound facilities in the pre/neo-natal care unit. She was surprised to see that such a facility existed in a Vulcan medical center, knowing that Spock had been born in his parents' home. During their lunch recess, she brought this up to the head midwife with whom she had been working closely.

"I trust you will forgive any rudeness on my part, "she said in formal Vulcan, "but I am curious about these facilities."

"Curiosity is never rude," said the midwife, "for any disrespect would be unintentional. What are your questions?"

"I was under the impression that Vulcan culture favors home birth. These are quite extensive facilities for such a society."

The midwife nodded. "Home births are the tradition in our culture, but there will always be situations where further aid is necessary, or there is danger to the mother or the child. In such a situation, a hospital birth would be the safest, most logical option."

Nyota nodded, feeling foolish. Perhaps the midwife sensed her embarrassment, because she added, "Such a thing is rare, however. Many young Vulcans are unaware of the existence of these facilities as well."

Nyota smiled to herself. The midwife, of course, didn't react.

It was a cruel twist of fate, Nyota thought later, that she'd been asked to work in the neonatal care center. It felt as though the cosmos were mocking her with a life she knew now she could probably never have.

She had only seen Spock once since they'd arrived on New Vulcan. Because he was staying on-planet and she on the ship, the only chance she had to see him was during the day at the hospital. But she was working in the complete opposite end of the building from him. Although it had only been a few days since they'd spoken, it felt like a lifetime. She'd never realized how accustomed she was to his presence. Spock had always made an effort to spend time with her in the evenings after their day shift on the bridge. But everything had changed since Sirius III. First her failed seduction attempt (she rolled her eyes at the memory), then Kirk's ridiculously monopolizing injury…. Nyota sighed. Spock and Kirk had been even more joined-at-the-hip than usual, and Nyota had been trying to not let it bother her.

It wasn't working.

Being assigned to a different, albeit fascinating, area of the hospital was driving Nyota crazy. It wasn't that she felt overly possessive of Spock, but all the uncertainty of the last week was beginning to wear on her nerves. She had always known exactly where she stood with Spock, but now she had no clue. Did he love her? She once was so sure. She had always felt that passion was important in a relationship, the gateway to deeper levels of trust and intimacy. Spock had never displayed passion of any sort towards her. She had never been able to penetrate his defenses. _But Kirk did_, her subconscious reminded her viciously.

A tap on the shoulder startled her out of her thoughts.

"Lieutenant, we are done working for the day," a young midwife said.

"Oh," said Nyota distractedly. "Thank you." She hurried towards the main wing of the hospital, hoping to catch Spock before he disappeared back to the ambassador's residence. But he wasn't there. Disappointed, she retreated to a deserted area and paged Scotty in the _Enterprise_ transporter room.

"Scotty, one to beam up."

But it was not Scotty who answered.

"Stand by to beam up, Lieutenant," said Spock's voice from the communicator in her hand. Nyota felt her stomach drop as New Vulcan disappeared around her, a reaction that had nothing to do with the transportation and everything to do with the man waiting for her in the transporter room. When she materialized, Spock was watching her.

"Hi," she said after a moment's pause.

"Good evening, Uhura," Spock said quietly. The use of her surname was not lost on Nyota. "I wonder if I may speak with you."

"Of course, Spock, " Nyota said, perplexed by his formality. "Do you want to talk here? Or we can go somewhere more private... My room?"

"Yes," said Spock, "somewhere more private would be ideal."

They walked in silence to Nyota's room, each lost in their own thoughts: Nyota trying not to worry or be too paranoid, Spock struggling to find the courage to be completely honest with her. He didn't want to hurt Nyota, but he also knew it would be best if she knew the whole truth. He hoped she would understand that none of this madness was her fault. When they reached her room she turned to face him without sitting down.

"What's wrong, Spock?"

Spock hesitated, unprepared for such a direct question.

"I know something's been bothering you," Nyota said. "Just tell me what it is." Her stare was concerned but demanding, and Spock knew instantly that she would see through any attempt he made to soften the truth.

_How had his most protected secret come to be spilt twice in less than a day?_ he wondered.

Nyota's eyes narrowed. On a hunch, she demanded, "Is it to do with Kirk?" Spock nodded, his cheekbones flushed a delicate green. With a sickening sense of foreboding, Nyota asked, "What is it, Spock?" She was unable to keep the apprehension from her voice.

"Jim and I—" Spock hesitated for a fraction of a second "—have had sexual intercourse."

Whatever Nyota had been expecting, this was certainly not it. She stumbled backwards in shock. Spock saw her knees start to buckle and hurried to place a chair behind her before she collapsed. Nyota plopped into the chair with a huff and stared at the floor.

"When?" she asked after a minute of silence.

Spock closed his eyes, hating the emotions spilling through his _katra_, knowing Nyota hated them even more.

With a morbid sense of déjà vu, Spock answered, "The first night we spent on Starbase 11."

Uhura stared at him, her eyes hurt and angry. "Well that explains a lot."

Spock knew she was thinking about the night she had tried to seduce him, the night after he had slept with Kirk.

"I am sorry," he said, somewhat lamely. "It was never my intention to hurt you."

"If I had a credit for each time you've said that to me in the last two weeks…" Nyota said.

Spock was familiar with the idiom. "I know," he said. "I did not expect—"

"I mean, I knew there was something going on with you two," Nyota interrupted, "but _this_, this is so much _worse_." She looked up at Spock suddenly. "Do you love him?"

"Yes," said Spock. "I love him." Deciding he may as well tell the whole truth now, he added, "I have for some months now."

"Spock," Nyota said, a new edge creeping into her voice, "Why haven't you told me?"

"It did not matter," Spock said simply. "I was certain Jim did not return my feelings, so voicing them would have been pointless."

"You _were_ certain," Nyota said. "Are you not anymore?"

"I am less so," Spock admitted.

"Spock, he was completely wasted that night. How can you be sure…" she trailed off, not wanting to hurt Spock's feelings.

"I am not sure of anything where Jim is concerned," Spock said. "I understand he was intoxicated that night, but whether or not the incident had any emotional significance for him is beside the point. I know only my own feelings and I must respect them."

Uhura chose not to question his change of mind. She was silent for several moments, reluctant to voice her thoughts.

"What does this mean for us, then?" she asked finally.

"I can no longer be in a romantic relationship with you, Nyota," said Spock, "even one that is on a temporary hiatus. To remain in such a relationship when I do not love you would be dishonest to both of us."

"Ouch," Nyota said quietly. Spock said nothing. For several long minutes they sat in silence. Then Uhura said, "I can't blame you, Spock. Kirk is a very attractive man, and not even you can help who you fall in love with."

"Thank you, Uhura," Spock said. Surname again, she noticed.

"Good night, Spock," she said, dismissing him.

Spock left the room silently, and Uhura finally let the tears in her eyes fall.

Mr. Scott had returned to the transporter room by the time Spock arrived.

"If you could beam me down to the ambassador's home, Mr. Scott," Spock requested.

"Sure thing, Mr. Spock," Scotty said, energizing the transporter.

The warm night air on the planet's surface was comforting as Spock made his way back to his room in the ambassador's house. He stopped outside the door to Jim's guest bedroom. The Human was already asleep, tired after the day's work. Spock hovered, trying to decide if he should enter or not. His mind was in turmoil, wanting Kirk but fearing rejection, fighting against the instinct of self-preservation. He curled his hands into fists, trying to focus his thoughts. He blinked and his eyelids felt like sandpaper. Swallowing a growl, he turned away from Kirk's door.

He had come so far, he was at last free to love Jim without guilt or fear of discovery, but it would all be for nothing if Jim did not return the feelings. Spock contemplated this as he sat on the edge of his bed, staring at the wall that separated his room from Jim's. It was a question Spock was almost too afraid to learn the answer to: would Jim accept him?

Spock pressed the heels of his hands against his feverish eyes. There was only one way to stop the anguish.

Ask the question.

Spock sank to his knees, pulling at his last reserves of energy to close his mind and eliminate all thought. Just one moment of peace…

There was a knock at the door. A soft knock, as though whoever it was knew Spock was awake and didn't need to knock very loudly. He stood up, straightening his shirt and smoothing his expression before he opened the door.

The ambassador stood before him, dressed as ever in his simple, traditional black robes.

"Good evening, Spock," he said. Spock merely nodded, dropping his exhausting pretense and standing back to allow the ambassador into his room. "Forgive me for intruding, but I felt it was urgent to observe your progress. I know how much this problem has strained your mind. I do not wish you to be in pain longer than is necessary."

Spock couldn't help wondering if the real reason the ambassador was to satisfy his own selfish, emotional investment in his and Jim's future together. This was probably partly true, but he could not fault the old Vulcan for such feelings. He would be interested too, were their situations reversed. But still he said nothing.

"Have you spoken with Uhura?" the ambassador pressed.

"Yes," Spock answered. "I returned not five minutes ago." When the ambassador didn't comment, he continued, "I told her the truth about my feelings for Jim, and my feelings for her."

"Or lack thereof," the ambassador said.

"Yes," said Spock. "She was, of course, unhappy, but said she understood."

The ambassador nodded. "What will you do now?"

Spock's gaze slid over to rest again on the wall he shared with Jim's room. He didn't need to answer the old Vulcan's question, his hesitation was written across his face.

"You must speak with him. Only when he knows the truth will you be free of this torment," the ambassador said.

Spock couldn't answer.

"I understand you feel fear," the ambassador said. "Tradition dictates I tell you such feeling is illogical, but you and I both know that is not true in this case. If there were words I could say to ease your fear I would say them, but there are no words. There is only action now. I understand your fear but you must act in spite of that fear."

Spock looked back up at the ambassador, amazed at the fervor in the old Vulcan's voice. "Should I go to him now?"

"I think you should," the ambassador said. "Fear will only grow if you let it stagnate."

Spock moved towards the door as if in a dream. Was he really about to go in to Jim and tell him he loved him? The ambassador followed him out and walked with him to Jim's bedroom door.

"Do not worry, Spock," the old Vulcan said, "I do not think this will take a turn for the worse."

Spock looked at him, one hand on the doorknob. The old Vulcan gave an almost-smile and turned away, heading down the hall in a quiet swish of robes.

As softly as he could, Spock turned the doorknob and let himself into Jim's bedroom.

* * *

**End Chapter Nine**

* * *

**Well, you should count yourselves lucky, dear readers. This chapter ended up being 1k longer than planned (which still is only 2.5k but whatevs). Hope you enjoyed it. Sexytimez a-comin'!**


	11. Oh, Never Say

**As promised, SEXYTIMES. Go, go. Enjoy. 'And call me when you get back, darling, I enjoy our visits.' Ehehehe.**

* * *

**THE EXPENSE OF SPIRIT**

**Chapter 10:**

**Oh, Never Say That I Was False of Heart**

* * *

Spock entered Jim's bedroom on silent feet and closed the door behind him. The room was dim, lit only by the ambient light from outside and a narrow thread of light around the doorway. Jim was spread-eagle on the bed, breathing deeply. He had kicked off the blanket, revealing himself to be wearing only a pair of thin cotton pants. Spock swallowed, the heat behind his eyes flickering to life at the sight of the Captain's bare, sweat-damp skin in the half-light. Jim's low, deep breaths echoed in Spock's ears like thunder, drowning out every other sound but Spock's own racing heartbeat. He swallowed again.

"Jim," he whispered, too low for the Human to hear. But Jim shifted in his sleep and a frown crossed his face. Spock took a deep breath. "Jim," he said again, louder this time. Slowly, Jim's eyes opened. He blinked a few times before focusing his gaze on Spock standing at the foot of the bed.

"Spock?" he said, sitting up. "What's wrong?"

"I need to speak with you," Spock said, his voice a low growl in his throat.

"Wha- Now? What time is it? Spock, are you okay?"

"It is not late," Spock answered. "But it is urgent that I speak with you."

Jim slid forward to sit at the end of the bed, and Spock took an automatic step backwards. Blue eyes gazed up at him, and he could not speak.

"I—" he started. "I have … questions."

"About?" Jim urged.

"You."

Jim blinked, clearly still confused. "What about me?"

Spock swallowed a third time. "It is … difficult."

"It must be if it's got you stuttering and pausing all over the place," said Jim with a smile, trying to lighten the mood. "…Sorry," he said after a minute.

Spock was silent, taking shuddering breaths in and out through his nose, struggling for calm when all he wanted was to push Jim back onto the bed and claim his mouth, his body, his soul.

"Spock," Jim said, concern evident in his voice, "What's _wrong_?"

Spock took a deep breath. "Do you remember our first night on the Starbase?"

"Vaguely," Jim said.

"What do you remember?" Spock asked, narrowing his gaze to study Jim's face. The Human's brow furrowed as he struggled to remember.

"I remember going to the bar, but I don't really remember leaving it. I remember you coming by to drop off my card because I left it there." He paused. "Well… I don't actually _remember_ that part, but I remember waking up the next day and figuring you'd dropped it off, because it was on the dresser…

"You do not remember the conversation we had, then," Spock reasoned. Jim shook his head.

"But I do remember—" Jim broke off, grateful it was too dark for Spock to see his cheeks flush. "I remember the dream I had that night."

Spock leaned imperceptibly closer. "What was it?" he asked, unable to keep the urgency from his voice.

Jim hesitated. "I… don't think… Do you really need to know?"

"_Yes_."

"Wow, okay. Um. Well, it was about you."

Spock took an aborted step towards Jim on the bed, but did not say anything.

"I have a really weird feeling you already know what I'm about to say," Jim said suspiciously.

"Nevertheless," said Spock, "I must have the truth from you."

Something in Jim rose to the challenge in Spock's voice. "I dreamt we had sex," he blurted.

Spock hissed. There was a moment of silence, then he asked, "What if I were to tell you it was not a dream?" His voice was strained with the effort it took to control himself.

"Wwwwwwhat?" Jim said, hardly able to believe what he was hearing.

Spock stepped closer, his breathing rapid and shallow. Every muscle in his body was tight, coiled, ready to spring. When he spoke, it was through clenched teeth. "What if—" breath "—I were to tell you—" breath "—it was not a dream."

"Um," Jim said.

"How articulate," Spock said, his voice still warped behind his teeth.

"We—um. We … did?" Jim managed to say.

"We did." Spock was leaning over Jim now, his shoulders drawn and tight.

"_Fuck_." Jim hesitated, looking up at Spock in confusion. "Spock, why haven't you said anything?"

Spock unwound and stepped back immediately, his features melting into an expressionless mask, and did not answer. Jim stood up slowly.

"Spock?"

"Such situations are of course foreign to me," Spock said flatly. "I did not know how to proceed."

"That's bullshit and even I can tell," Jim said. Spock looked at the floor. "Tell me the truth, Spock. _Why haven't you said anything?"_ Jim was not demanding. He _pleaded_.

"I was … afraid." Spock's voice was barely a whisper, Jim had to lean forward to catch it. He waited for the Vulcan to continue, but Spock seemed to be stuck again.

"What were you afraid of, Spock?" Jim asked gently.

"You ought to know that such meaningless encounters do not exist in the culture in which I was raised," Spock said. "For Vulcans, there is no such thing as sexual attraction without a deeper level of affection and commitment attached to it. The encounter … with you … was not meaningless to me. However, I had no way of knowing if it meant anything to you."

"Spock…"

"I assumed I was correct," Spock continued doggedly, "in believing that it did not mean anything to you."

"Why would you assume such a thing?" Jim interrupted.

"You were drunk," Spock said simply. "Drunken Humans are not trustworthy. Also, you never referred the incident afterwards."

"But neither did you!" Jim said. "So it's not just my—wait. Did you say it was 'not meaningless' to you?"

"That is what I said."

"Spock… Do you – love me?"

"…. Yes, Jim. I love you."

Jim exhaled. It was almost a sigh. "And thought it didn't mean anything to me because you don't think- Spock. You're kind of an idiot sometimes."

"Excuse me?" Spock said, clearly confused.

"The reason I didn't bring it up was because _I didn't know it happened_!" Despite the impatience in his voice, Jim was smiling. Spock did not understand why. "Oh, don't tell me that didn't even occur to you! Did you _see_ how shitfaced I was that night?"

Spock didn't even blink at Jim's choice of words. "I did, which is what I believed responsible for the events of that night. I believed it was the alcohol that caused you to act in a way that was not the norm for you. I had observed such behavior in other Humans."

"Okay, wait," Jim said, the smile disappearing from his face. "Let me get this straight: you thought I only slept with you because I was drunk, and then didn't mention it because it didn't mean anything to me?"

"Yes, that was my thought process," Spock said.

"Then just say that! Speak English, Spock! And you're still an idiot." Jim was smiling again.

"I do not-"

"Spock. I don't remember sleeping with you but that doesn't mean- Hell, I wish I _could_ remember, because _damn_ that would be…"

Spock froze, hardly daring to hope, hardly daring to _think_ about what Jim was telling him. The Human took a step closer.

"I thought it was a dream," Jim said quietly, "because I'd dreamt it before. I'd wished – for so long…."

"Jim, what exactly are you saying?" Spock asked slowly.

"I'm saying I—" Jim swallowed. "I love you too, Spock. And even though I don't remember doing it, I'm glad it happened because I've wanted—"

Spock surged forward, catching the back of Jim's neck with his hand and covering the Human's mouth with his own. Jim stumbled just a bit before returning the kiss. He slid his hands into Spock's hair, curling his fingers around the strands, tugging lightly. A low sound rumbled out of Spock's throat.

Spock pulled away to look at Jim. "You are sure?"

"Hell, I'm very sure," Jim said. He tugged on Spock's hair, bending the Vulcan's head back. A vein was throbbing in his throat. Gently, Jim pressed his lips to the spot, and felt Spock's heartbeat racing against his skin. He moved his mouth lower, tasting the skin in the hollow of Spock's neck. Spock lowered his chin, nuzzling his face closer to Jim's and sliding his tongue between the Human's lips. The taste was familiar, but untainted this time by alcohol.

The kiss was slow and languorous, each of them taking their slow time to enjoy one another. Eventually, though, Jim pulled away, a small smile on his face.

"You know, for a while there I thought you'd need a bit more convincing than this. Kinda wishing you did, to be honest, I had a lot I wanted to show you," he said.

Spock contemplated this for a while, an almost-smile playing about his mouth. "I would not be averse to such a course of action, should you still wish to demonstrate the level of your feelings for me."

Jim laughed, an exultant, joyful sound. "Did you just seriously-?"

"Give you permission to do with me whatever pleases you? Yes," said Spock. Jim smiled, and it reminded of Spock of the proverbial cat that ate the canary.

"I hate to brag," Jim said as he steered Spock towards the bed, "but you're in for a treat."

"I do not doubt it, especially if your skills are in any way comparable to what _I_ have dreamt."

Jim spluttered for a moment. "I can't even— You—you've had sex dreams about me? _You_ have. Seriously?"

"Seriously," Spock deadpanned.

"What-?" Jim didn't have to complete his sentence, Spock understood him perfectly.

In response, Spock's gaze almost-but-not-quite slid down to glance at the erection now straining the front of his trousers, then flickered back to Jim's face. The comical shock on Jim's expression melted into a sly, chilling grin. He reached out with both hands and unzipped Spock's trousers, then pulled him forward, pressing their hips together, devouring Spock's silent scream with his tongue.

"There will be plenty of time for that, don't worry." Jim's fingers crept upward, slipping beneath Spock's shirt and tracing the muscles of his stomach. "But not…quite…yet." In one swift motion, he pulled Spock's shirt up and over his head, tossing it somewhere behind him, not caring where it landed. He peppered Spock's chest with kisses, guiding him to lie down on the bed as he did so. The Vulcan went willingly, the scratch of the bedclothes against his sensitive skin reminding him of another night not-so-long ago. He swung his legs up onto the bed and Jim sat down near his feet.

"You never really think of it," Jim said as he unzipped Spock's boots, "but everyone wears shoes. No one even notices until it's time for the shoes to come off…" As he said this, he pulled off Spock's boots one by one, followed by his socks. Leaning down, he looked up at Spock through his eyelashes and kissed the tops of his feet. Spock appeared to consider this sensation, but didn't react.

"Not so much?" Jim asked. Spock shook his head. "Some people like it."

"Feet are feet," said Spock. "Since you bring it up, however… Due to our differences in physiology, Vulcan hands have always been much more… _sensitive_ than Humans'."

Jim raised his eyebrows. "Is that so? I'll have to explore that." But he didn't right away. Instead, he eased Spock's trousers down and flung them off the bed to join his shirt on the floor. Jim crawled up the length of Spock's body, straddling his hips and gazing down at the slim body of the Vulcan before him. He took Spock's hands in his own, entwining their fingers. He brought one hand up to his mouth and licked Spock's palm. Spock arched his back, and this drove his erection upward against Jim's, drawing harsh sounds from both their throats.

"Jim… please," Spock hissed. Jim looked down at him. A delicate green flush was creeping up his neck, and his eyes were tight shut.

Jim pouted. "Too soon, Spock. Where's the fun in that?"

But Spock was in no place to play games. "I cannot- Please."

Jim slid slowly down between Spock's legs, tugging down his black regulation briefs and dropping them on the floor. Then he lowered his head above Spock's proud erection, hunger unmistakable in his eyes. His eyes flicked up once to see Spock's face, to silently beg permission.

"You need to tell me if what I'm doing is okay," Jim said softly. Spock nodded once, his eyes never leaving Jim's.

And then Jim's hot, wet mouth closed around Spock's swollen, dark erection.

It was better even than the dream had been, better than Spock could have possibly imagined it. Jim moved his hot tongue against the slick, smooth skin of Spock's shaft, his mouth unbearably warm as he sucked so hard his cheeks pulled in and Spock could feel them against him.

"Yes," Spock said, his voice barely a whisper, "that."

Jim curled on hand around the base of Spock's erection where his mouth couldn't reach, and pumped in time with the bobbing up-and-down of his head.

Spock could feel the tension building in the muscles of his legs and knew he wasn't going to last much longer. "Harder," he grunted.

Jim slowed his pace and drew long, hard pulls on Spock's shaft. Spock's entire body tensed for one instant, then he was coming in thick spurts into Jim's mouth. Jim swallowed expertly, but Spock was in no place to appreciate this. Ears ringing, his vision whited out in a long, suspended moment, a scream caught in his throat.

When Spock opened his eyes, Jim was leaning next to him, a tender, satisfied smile on his face. It was only then that Spock realized the Human was still wearing his pajama pants.

"Would you like me to return the favor?" he asked quietly, his gaze fixed on the substantial bulge at the front of Jim's pants.

"You don't have to," Jim said. "That was for you."

"In that case," Spock said, "I would like to thank you for it." He pushed himself up onto one elbow, looking down now into Jim's face. "I trust this is acceptable?" Without waiting for an answer, he kissed him.

"Spock," Jim gasped as the Vulcan made a path down his body with licks and kisses, "really, don't feel like you need to… Please… don't feel like I'm pressuring you, I know you don't – oh, God – I know you've never done this before…"

Spock ignored him because, as it turned out, that didn't matter so much.

* * *

**End Chapter Ten**

* * *

**GUISE. We are ALMOST DONE. I only have one chapter left! Oh, and don't worry, there be PROPER sexytimes ahead! And a bit of Spock-Prime being hilariously insightful. XD**

**I love you all! *smishes you***


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